


Serrucho

by sitabethel



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Also a hint of conspireshipping, Canon Divergence, Canon Typical Violence, Cucking, Gem/Tendershipping, Gravityshipping, He needs to learn his place, I don't like Zorc, M/M, Multi, Ryou is a carpenter, but didn't we just have a fic where Zorc gets cucked?, but listen..., canon typical asshole characters, if it's not obvious that would also be referring to the laddershipping, if it's not obvious that would be the laddershipping, laddershipping, unhealthy relationship, yes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:35:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 63,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23639167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sitabethel/pseuds/sitabethel
Summary: The demon was cold, but the other two were warm...
Relationships: Bakura Ryou/Thief King Bakura, Bakura Ryou/Thief King Bakura/Marik Ishtar, Thief King Bakura/Zorc Necrophades
Comments: 186
Kudos: 65





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "El Serrucho" was a song we did in Zumba by Mr. Black. "Serrucho" has some funny slang meanings. It can be a reference to the cartoons where the floor gets sawed beneath a character so they fall (with the implied meaning of cockblocking that person to take their girl). Which is what Ryou does in this fic. But the way it's used in the song, "Porque voy a dar serrucho" means he's going to "give her the saw" (have sex with her. Or in the case of this fic, "him" since it's Bakura but let's not get caught up with pronouns). Which is what Ryou also does in this fic. Either way, the title is a joke. This whole fic is a joke. I used to think of some crazy things mid-zumba class. (This is also why I added the joke tag of "Ryou is a carpenter". In the song he sings "yo soy tu carpintero" a lot. 
> 
> Anyway, most of this was written in 2015 with only the end finished in 2019. I tried to smooth out the writing, but it still might be clunky. My apologies.
> 
> Also, the next chapter of Our Second Chances is 99% done, but I just *could not* bring myself to finish that last 1% of editing today, so I'll post it this weekend. I'm really sorry. Being in a 1 bedroom apartment for months has my brain screaming "nope" to everything right now. (I'm sure we're all feeling like that or worse, so I hope this story helps distract everyone even for a few minutes).

The Spirit of the Ring never learned how to stop the memories. When they came, they struck hard and overwhelmed his mind, leaving him helpless to them, a child again reliving trauma. The flashbacks rendered him incapable of movement or speech or thought. He could only sit and _relive_ everything. Not always the fire—mostly the fire—and the death, and the gold, and the ghosts screaming for vengeance, but there were other memories.

At eight, a scorpion stung him and the pain was molten steel in his veins. He screamed, but he screamed to a ruined village of ghosts, and there was nothing to do but learn how to grit his teeth and endure.

At ten, young and still learning the craft of thievery, he triggered a trap within a tomb. He found himself locked in a small, false room, sand trickling from slots cut into the stone above, drowning him. The sand reached his lips—sending him into stark panic—until Diabound appeared. That was the first time he’d summoned his _ka_ , a fond memory overall, but sometimes the feelings of the claustrophobia of the room, and the sand in his mouth, and the weight crushing his young body, made the small prison of the Ring unbearable.

At fourteen, while fencing tomb treasure in an outlying city, a slaver decided the young thief would bring a high price as a concubine. The slaver bribed an innkeeper to drug the thief’s beer. He woke and found himself tied and gagged. The slaver wanted to “train” the thief himself, but when he entered the cell, he found the young thief untied and holding a crude shiv in his hand. That was the first time he killed a man, and soon after—once he’d learned what had happened from the slaves he’d liberated that evening—the thief had added the innkeeper to his list.

It became a consistent problem, people wanting to use him. His white hair and silvery-thistle eyes fascinated people, and they grabbed him and ran their fingers along his scars; never asking, just groping. He learned to loathe human touch, constantly having to fight advances, earning several new scars, including the one on his face. By eighteen, his body filled out with muscle and his reputation as a thief and killer grew enough to make people keep their distance, but he never could stomach intimate touch even after the threats stopped.

Until he acquired the Ring and found his soul trapped within it.

That’s when the memories haunted him the worst. Trapped in a relic of gold he had nowhere to go, nothing to do, his soul sat alone in dark and every pain he had ever felt cycled in a constant parade in his mind and he wanted it to stop, would do _anything_ to make it stop.

The demon slipped beside him in the dark. They already had a deal to kill their common enemy, but a different bargain glowed in Zorc's coal-red eyes. What the demon offered was a reprieve from memories, and the thief mulled over the proposition. At first, it made his skin shudder. Not because Zorc was a demon. His lack of humanity drove the thief to consider the silent proposal. But still the thought of carnal sensation, even in the Ring without corporeal forms, made the thief recoil. Lust had always been a weakness to exploit in others before he sank his knife into their throat, not something _he_ was susceptible to.

A light drag of claws pulled down the thief’s chest. He tensed, breathing heavily. The talons paused, eyes waited a moment for the thief's response. Again, Zorc's utter lack of humanity appealed to the thief. He wanted to hold the void against his chest until in numbed the scorching fire of emotion burning him alone since childhood.

The thief shook his head, consenting. Zorc pushed him further into the darkness. There was no prelude to the event, no courting, no whispers, no more claws dragging against tanned flesh, none of the tender affection the thief sometimes witnessed from other couples. Zorc's weight settled on top of the thief. His claws pushed the thief's thighs apart. A chill stabbed through the thief. He gasped as the cold filled him, a heavy, moving chill that made him pant and tremble.

_At least he couldn’t think of fire or melted gold when he shivered._

Hovering above the thief, Zorc watched for a reaction. His eyes glowed, both the color of the gore spilling from a cut throat or a ripped open gut. The thief blinked, wondering if there was a specific way he should respond. The red glare seemed . . . expectant somehow, but the thief didn’t know what to do, so he continued to lay still, stare up at the darkness, and pant through his nose as he allowed the cold to slice through his core. 

After a while of the rhythmic moving, the thief’s insides tensed. A strange pressure, a tightness, seized his lower half. A strangled gasp escaped his mouth. He blinked a few times, trying to comprehend the sensation, but the cold left him too numb to fully enjoy it. The thief died as he lay on his back in the dark, not as his body had died. This was a worse death, a corruption of _ba_ so complete that any chance of his soul ever becoming an akh was forfeit. In exchange, the memories, those hot, swirling, overbearing memories faded, and part of the thief faded with them. His soul darkened...transforming into a shade, and the thief enjoyed it. The numbness, the emptiness, the dark consuming him and relieving him of the pain of living. He laughed. He laughed and reached out to Zorc, clutching him truly as a lover should. He wrapped his legs around the demon, arched into the cold, and laughed.

Zorc’s carmine eyes smoldered in myrth. The thief turned his head to avoid the gaze, preferring the void around them. The pressure inside him broke and tumbled out. He spasmed, moaned, and spilled his seed onto his belly. It evaporated as soon as it splashed against his skin, a cold memory, but nothing more. The thief laid still as the demon inside him finished. Zorc’s seed was colder than his touch. It would have hurt had the thief not been numbed by the act of their coupling. 

Exhausted, the thief’s eyes sank low, but closed or open, there wasn't anything to see other than darkness. He slept. Without the agony of dreams or memories, he slept. For thousands of years, he slept. The demon woke him and took him at random, and the thief, now nothing more than a spirit haunting the Ring, realized he was changing as the years passed. His scrappy, muscular form wasted into an emaciated body. Sharp bones jutted from his hips as if he was starving, his skin turned white and thin like the cloth wrapping a corpse in a tomb. His hair grew to his elbows, and when he saw his face reflected back at him from his demon-lover's scarlet gaze, he realized his silvery-lavender eyes gleamed the same dark crimson as Necrophades' eyes. 

It suited him. His appearance, his soul depleted of everything except hatred, the power he felt, those cold moments when the demon was inside him...It all suited him. 

***

“What are you watching?”

Ryou looked up from his spot on the sofa, blinking in surprise. The Spirit, pale and translucent as he always appeared to Ryou, stood above him. As he glared at Ryou, his carmine eyes flashed from the TV screen’s light. Ryou smiled, but it faltered on his face when the Spirit’s expression grew colder in response to Ryou’s offered comfort. 

“A movie?” Ryou answered, but his tone ticked up as if he asked a question himself. 

“Obviously.” 

“It’s called The Fog.”

“What’s it about?”

Ryou smiled again. He bit his lower lip. He understood that his next words would be tantalizing bait to the Spirit. 

“Vengeance.” 

The only reaction he got was the slightest raise in the Spirit’s two white eyebrows. Ryou decided to give him more detail, see if he could get the Spirit to nibble. 

“The founders of this town murdered a gang of pirates for their gold, and the pirates’ spirits murder the founder's descendants as payback.” 

Ryou scooted to the edge of the sofa. It wasn’t an invitation, more like a dare. Ryou crossed his arms over his chest, ignoring the Spirit altogether and focusing on the television. The Spirit reminded Ryou of a feral kitten, always lurking in the shadows, investigating everything he came across. When they were children, Ryou and Amane had tamed their fair share of wild kittens, and Ryou thought—perhaps, with the right motivation—Ryou could make a friend of the Ring Spirit yet. 

“Why are you watching this?” The Spirit stood in place, refusing the offered seat. 

“Because it’s the weekend? We just came back from Pegasus’ Island and I’m too tired to work on Monster World, so I thought an old horror movie would be nice.” 

“Why aren’t you watching something... He paused, thinking of words. “Happy.” 

“You haven’t paid much attention to my entertainment habits, have you?” Ryou wrinkled his face. 

“But you’re on _their_ side.” 

“Irrelevant.” 

“You wouldn’t like this scenario as much if those town descendants were your friends.” The Spirit snorted. 

Ryou shrugged. He didn’t have a rebuttal for the statement. The Spirit stood beside the sofa with his arms crossed, pretending not to watch. After a few minutes the Spirit leaned on the arm of the sofa. Then he sat on it. Once the murders began, he swung his translucent legs over and settled onto a proper cushion. Ryou didn’t try to talk, get close, or even glance at the Ring-Spirit—he knew better—but he could tell through his peripheral vision that the movie interested his “guest”. 

When it was almost over, when good seemed to have triumphed and saved everyone, the spirit opened his mouth to protest. 

"Half a moment. It's not over." Ryou lifted his hand to stop the Spirit’s complaint. 

The Spirit scowled, but smirked when the vengeful movie ghost returned at the last moment in order to murder the final of the four descendants. 

"Satisfied?" Ryou smiled. Only when the credits rolled did he brave a glance at the Spirit. 

The Spirit snorted before disappearing, avoiding the question. A smile lingered on Ryou’s face. All-in-all, he considered the afternoon a success. Ryou picked another movie from his pile of favorites and continued with his marathon. 

***

Days later, Ryou tossed and turned in his bed. His face wrinkled as some horror played out in his sleep. The lines on his brow creased deeper and deeper until, finally, Ryou jerked into consciousness. He sat up, glanced around the room, realized where he was, and heaved a heavy, broken sob. Bowing his head, his hair tumbled over his face, blinding him in white that almost looked blue in the darkness. 

“Amane…” Ryou hugged himself, having no one _but_ himself to hug. 

In the dream, Amane was a baby, and he dropped her. His little sister. The person he’d loved more than anything else in the world. She relied on him for protection and he couldn’t hold on—she fell into endless black—because he couldn’t hold on. Sweat trickled down his neck and dampened his collar. He rubbed his forehead and behind his neck with the sleeve of his pajama top to dry himself. The room hummed in silence, but Ryou felt a gaze on him. Glancing upward, Ryou saw the Spirit standing at the foot of Ryou’s bed, watching. 

Ryou frowned. “Yes. I’m stupid and weak because of my emotions. I’m already aware of your stance on the issue, so you don’t have to say anything. Please leave me be.”

Ryou flung the covers to the side and stormed to the kitchen. The overhead light flickered before washing the kitchen with mellow, white light. Ryou turned on his kettle and fixed a cup of tea to help settle his nerves. While waiting on the water to heat, he toyed with a pot of ivy sitting on his kitchen table. As his tea steeped, he folded a paper napkin into a crane. He did anything he could not to think about Amane disappearing into the endless dark of his dream. Through the narrow curl of steam from his cup, he saw the Spirit walk into the kitchen. The Spirit sat across from Ryou, expression neutral, elbows propped on the table. 

Ryou looked away. 

“You called out a girl’s name.”

“Amane. My sister.” Ryou’s carob-colored gaze shifted to his hands. Staring at his palms, Ryou curled and uncurled his fingers, noticing how the skin pinched around the scar tissue on his left hand. 

“Oh.” An odd expression shadowed the Spirit’s face, one Ryou couldn’t read. “At least those you’ve lost can move on.” 

“Are you referring to your own inability to pass on...or something else?” Ryou leaned forward, stare locked on the Spirit. 

The Spirit stood and walked away. His wild white hair swished about his shoulders as he left. Bringing his teacup, Ryou followed him into the bedroom. The Spirit sat at the window and stared at night sky. He looked beautiful, sitting in a shaft of pale moonlight—beautiful and lonely. Loneliness was something Ryou understood, but he couldn’t bear it that night, not after his dream. He swallowed, keeping the desperation out of his voice as he spoke. 

“Let’s play a game.” Ryou sipped his tea, forcing himself to act casual. 

“What kind?” 

“Something simple. Blackjack.” 

The Spirit nodded, and Ryou found a deck of regular cards. They played for an hour, until Ryou’s nightstand clock said 4 AM. With a weary sigh, Ryou leaned against the pillows propped against his headboard. 

“Thanks. I needed to not think for a bit, you know?” 

“I did it for my own amusement.” 

“Yes, of course. I still enjoyed the game.”

The silence hummed. Ryou feared the Spirit would disappear. He risked speaking again in hopes of keeping him around a few minutes longer. 

“What’s it like in the Ring?”

“Dark. Cold.” 

“Does it bother you? To be in the dark?” 

“No. I enjoy the dark.” 

“Oh...” Ryou opened his eyes, watching the Spirit. “Good. I like the dark, too, sometimes. Like now. It’s dark, but it’s nice.” 

“We’re not friends. I’m using you. Don’t act so informal.” 

“I promise friendship wasn’t my intent tonight. I only wanted to hear another voice. I don’t want to dream when I fall asleep.” Ryou closed his eyes again. “I’m so damn tired.” 

“You don’t want to hear my voice in your dreams, either. I have nothing comforting to say.” 

The bed shifted as the Spirit crawled to him. He lay beside Ryou, breath tickling Ryou’s ear as he whispered in a harsh, menacing tone. “You lost a mother and a sister, but I lost an entire village. I watched them burn. I watched everyone I’d ever known melted like ore and mixed with gold.”

Ryou shot up. He grabbed the Ring, touching the cool gold with his fingertips. He could almost see the masacre reflected in the metallic surface. The fire, the agony, the glimmering beauty of the finished product. Ryou thought of the movie, how rapt the Spirit was as he watched a story about vengeful ghosts. 

“Oh no…”

“Oh yes.” The spirit sat as well, scowling at the gold in Ryou’s hand. 

“And Yugi had something to do with it?” Ryou asked. 

“The spirit sharing his body.” 

“Then get the Puzzle,” Ryou hissed. “And leave Yugi alone.”

“ _Yadonushi_ , destiny isn’t so simple.” 

“Hearts have to be judged, right? If they were melted into the Items, their hearts would be trapped.” Ryou caressed the golden tines hanging from the Ring. 

“They bound to the Tablet, and their spirits wailed for retribution. Night. Day. They suffered...I failed them.” The Spirit grabbed two fistfuls of Ryou’s bedspread, digging in with his nails. “Not this time. This time, they'll have their retribution.” 

“Avenge them, yes. I understand your motivation, but...Isn’t there a way to _save_ them?” 

The Spirit snorted. “Save them? I don’t even know what _happened_ to them after the Pharaoh sealed himself away!” 

“Doesn’t _he_ know? Ask him.” Ryou flicked the gold around his neck, referring to the “evil intelligence” they learned about after dealing with Pegasus. 

“Ask a demon a question? You fool.” The Spirit stared at the Ring. “Besides, it doesn’t matter.” 

“I dropped her, in my dream. She was a baby and I dropped her and she fell into black nothing, and I couldn’t do anything about it.” 

The words rushed from Ryou’s mouth. He wasn’t sure why he rambled. The Spirit didn’t care. But Ryou was compelled to share the memories still gnawing at his thoughts. Perhaps because the Spirit finally told Ryou what he wanted to know more than anything else: how had the Items been created? Ryou fell back into his pillows.He had to repay the debt, but he couldn’t. He’d only lost two, not a village. But he couldn’t stop from speaking. 

“I held her _so tightly_ , but it was worthless. In the end, I couldn’t hang on. And it’s a stupid fucking dream, and I _know_ that, but it still _claws_ at me.” Ryou turned, shoving his face in one of his pillows to muffle his scream. 

***

Zorc took him from behind. The Spirit’s dick twitched with each cold thrust. Bracing himself on one forearm, his hand fumbled between his legs and toyed with the hot flesh of his cock. Zorc managed to pull small grunts from the Spirit’s mouth. The longer Zorc drilled into the Spirit, the faster the Spirit’s hand moved until he was pouring out a piece of himself into the darkness even as the demon shot cold and dark directly into his soul. Afterward, Necrophades moved to leave. He never stayed afterward, which always suited the Spirit. Except, Ryou’s words wouldn’t dislodge themselves from the Spirit’s thoughts. 

_Ask him_. 

It was ignorance, but the Spirit spoke into the void. 

“Wait.”

There was an expectant pause. Zorc decided to grant the Spirit an audience. A cold lump soured in the Spirit’s throat. He swallowed. 

“What happened after I died?”

**I lost.**

“But what happened?”

**You died. Another became my Shadow Priest and led the damned souls of Kul Elna into battle against the Pharaoh.**

“But what happened to the spirits who followed you into battle?”

**Pawns are removed from the game.**

“ _To where?_ ” Bakura spun to face the crimson eyes burning through the rest of the void. .

He felt himself slammed onto his back and pinned deeper into the darkness. 

**Open the door!**

“Fine!” The Spirit— _Bakura, he was starting to think of himself as Bakura although that wasn’t his real name_ , _right? So why did it feel so familiar?_ —pushed the darkness away. 

The door. Necrophades’ escape into the physical world. The only reason they were working together. Bakura opened the door and Zorc helped him get vengeance. 

He stole Ryou’s body after that. No, his host’s body. It was a host to him. The Spirit only watched movies and played games with his host to asauge him into faux comfort, to manipulate him. Ryou Bakura was nothing more than a means to an end: a vessel to pilot. 

Bakura searched for answers on how to gather the Items and open the Door. Destiny, or perhaps stupid luck, was with him that afternoon because Mr. King’s foolish vessel was in a rival game shop playing with his life on the line. In the confusion, as the shop burned, Bakura managed to trap a sliver of Zorc’s soul into the Millennium Puzzle.

But the fire took its toll later that night. Bakura sat on the sofa gazing at the carpet, unable to move, plagued with memories of fire, and melting—mother melting, father melting, little sister melting, family melting, everyone-everyone-everyone melting. No more faces or arms, feet or bellies, just gleaming, cursed, gold. He thought he was past the inconvenience of memory, of emotion. He couldn’t understand why it was haunting him now after thousands of years, but the refused to leave. He suffocated beneath their weight. 

With a snap of awareness, the Spirit jerked to his feet. The flashbacks lingered like a fowl taste, but his mind wasn’t trapped in them any longer. He looked around, confused as to why he was in an apartment in Japan. It wasn’t until he saw his host, in control of his body again and sitting on the sofa, that Bakura remembered where he was and what he was doing. The Spirit frowned. He didn’t remember giving up control of the vessel. 

“What are you doing?” The Spirit asked, his voice a rusty nail scraping against his own ears. 

“Waiting,” Ryou said. 

“For what?”

“For you to come back.” 

“Idiot. I was sitting right here.”

“And yet, you were gone.” Ryou shrugged. “It was the fire, wasn’t it?”

“If you say anything more. I will hurt you. _Don’t_.” 

“Can you drink tea when you’re in that form?” Ryou asked. 

He shook his head no. 

“Oh . . . I’m sorry. Mind if I have a cup anyway?”

“I don’t care what you do, as long as you don’t get in the way of my plans.” 

Ryou eased forward, each shift of weight was deliberate. With the same focused intention, Ryou reached out, cupping the Spirit’s cheek in his scarred left hand. 

“I won’t stop you if you don’t hurt my friends.”

“The Pharaoh—”

“Is not my friend,” Ryou said. “He's no more Yugi than you're me.” 

His host pulled away as carefully as he’d eased forward. He walked into the kitchen to make tea. The Spirit stood and blinked, trying to fully return to the present before following him. Ryou smiled at him; the Spirit scowled; Ryou returned to nursing his drink. 

Bakura considered returning to the Ring. He would fling himself into the darkness, bury himself in it, order Zorc to fuck him until his memories faded back to lifeless ash. But for some reason, Bakura wasn't in the mood to fuck, so he sat and stared at Ryou. 

“I have a game called Chrono Trigger. It's like a Monster World campaign, only on the Nintendo. Want to play?” Ryou finished his tea and set his cup down. 

Bakura nodded his head. The game might distract him, and why shouldn't his host amuse him? They went to the couch, sitting on opposite ends. Once the game bagan, they both lost themselves in it. From the 16-bit cut scenes to the hours of level grinding their characters, they forgot about their lives and instead focused on a plot about love and vengeance and human nature. By the time dawn poked through the living room window, they were sitting pressed side by side on the couch, leaning towards each other and trying to keep the timelines straight in their heads so they knew where to go next in the Epoch. 

Ryou’s eyes flicked to the light cutting through the glass windowpane. “Oh shit, I need to get ready for school!” He stood up, shoving the control pad into the Spirit’s hands. “Would you please continue grinding until I’m ready to leave?”

“Skip school. I want to play more,” Bakura grumbled. 

“Really?” Ryou stopped struggling out of his pajamas and turned to stare at the Spirit. 

“This is much more interesting than your idiotic history teacher. You haven’t learned a single truth in the class since the school year began. 

“Well, one more missed day of school won’t really hurt. I’m already ahead with all my homework anyway.” Ryou grinned, dark circles clinging beneath his eyes from their sleepless night. 

The Spirit mimicked Ryou’s grin—a darker, more sinister version perhaps, but nonetheless sincere. 

Ryou crashed onto the sofa, still in his pajamas. His feet dropped into the Spirit’s lap, and Ryou used a throw cushion to prop up his head. 

“You should still grind for a bit. I’m going to take a nap.” 

“Whatever, weak, little human. Sleep if you must.” The Spirit snorted. 

Ryou laughed, eyes still closed. “I really shouldn’t be skipping school to play Chrono Trigger. You’re just so convincing.” 

“With a mere suggestion, I have brainwashed you.” 

“What can I say? I’m so innocent and gullible. It can’t be helped.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Bakura/Malik dialogue is mostly lifted from my manga copy. I don't think the canon divergence really starts until chapter 4ish. 
> 
> Also about 2k into the next chapter of our second chances, so hopefully that's ready by next week.

Bakura lay in the dark and shivered. Zorc’s cold clung to him, and he couldn’t warm himself no matter what he did. It was always like that after they fucked, but again and again, Bakura found himself going back for more. The distraction, the numbness, the quick release, it had all become a needful, compulsive habit for him.

But this time had left him restless, so he left the dark of the Ring and materialized in Ryou’s bedroom. Late night quiet hummed in the dim room. His host slept on his side, curled beneath a mountain of thick blankets. His hair arched out and up behind him like a pale, crescent moon. Shivering, Bakura coveted the warmth of the covers piled around Ryou. He slipped beneath the quilts and duvet, as if they could warm him, but he was a ghost. He could lay beneath the covers, but he didn’t have any body heat for the blankets to trap. Nevertheless, he lay there, pretending he could feel the chill fading from his limbs, struggling to remember what it was like when he was human.

“Y’okay?” Ryou rolled towards him, bleary eyes fluttering half open.

“I’m bored,” he lied, refusing to explain. 

“You’re freezing. Come here.” Ryou slung an arm around him.

His host’s body heat soaked into Bakura’s core. He swallowed a gasp as the stinging chill faded in Ryou’s arms. This, too, Bakura coveted, but it felt dangerous...to seek out warmth and light only now, long after selling his soul. He resisted. 

“What do you think you’re doing, host? I'm not one of your idiot friends who likes to cuddle.” Bakura sneered, a deception so cunning he even impressed himself. 

“You're so dramatic. I’d hardly consider this cuddling.” Ryou laughed. “I’m helping you get warm. What happened? Is it that cold in the Ring?”

Bakura paused. Clever as he was, he felt like he was being snared in a much more sophisticated trap. He shrugged, playing indifferent. 

“Sometimes.” 

“Don’t worry. I’ll warm you right up.” Ryou flung his leg around the Spirit as well and pulled them closer. 

Bakura stiffened. “Don’t. You need to stop. Right now.”

“Was I hurting you? I’m sorry—” Ryou blinked fully awake, removing his arm and leg. 

“Fool. You’re not capable of hurting me.” Bakura’s gaze darted to the Ring.

Ryou caught the gesture. “ _Him_? You’re worried about _him_?”

“No.” Bakura scoffed. 

“Is _he_ why you’re cold? What does he do to you in the Ring?”

“None of your damn business what we do.” Bakura threw the covers away from him. He still shivered and missed Ryou’s heat, but he kept his hands at his sides to hide any shaking.

“Oh, I think I understand now. Well…” Ryou laughed. He jumped out of bed, unbuttoning the front of his nightshirt. “If it’s none of my business what _he_ does. Then it’s none of _his_ damn business what _I_ do.” 

Ryou marched to the Spirit and flung his arms around Bakura, allowing the heat of his chest to soak into Bakura’s ethereal body. The spirit tried not to sink into the gesture… but Ryou was soft and warm, and it felt good to remember heat. For the first time since his death, Bakura yearned a body that could lay beneath the sun and soak up the sizzling burn of the light on his skin. HIs fingers dug into the material bunched around Ryou’s shoulders. He gritted his teeth, unable to resist what Ryou offered. 

“Does he hurt you?” Ryou whispered.

“No,” Bakura answered, and for once he was being honest. “He numbs me.”

“So you’re content with the arrangement?”

Bakura nodded.

“But if you’re numb, you can’t feel anything—good or bad.”

“That’s the point, _Yadonushi_.”

“Then I’ll let go, but if you ever get too cold and want to lay beside me…” Ryou cupped the side of the Spirit’s face. “I'm here. You don’t have to ask. You’re a thief, you can take what you want, yeah?” 

Ryou released the Spirit and sat on the bed. His hair spilled over his shoulders, like moonlight. Bakura stifled the urge to reach out and touch it, and flat out denied the urge to curl back beside him. Even if only to leech Ryou’s heat like the parasite he was, it was too dangerous for Bakura to indulge in the craving. Bakura knew, if he did, he’d lose everything he’d be working for since his death. Vengeance. Vengeance would keep him warm at night. He wasn’t even sure _why,_ after millennia of needing the cold, he suddenly yearned for warmth again, but he refused to submit to the desire. To be as weak. He crossed his arms over his chest, scowled, and stared at the carpet. 

“Let’s play a game,” Ryou said. 

“What game?” 

“Do you know how to play Go?”

“Teach me.” 

Ryou set up the board on his bed. He chose the white pebbles and gave the black to Bakura. That seemed a little too simple, the metaphor of it, but he suspected Ryou did it out of irony—he wore a coy smile as he handed Bakura the tray of black stones. They played for an hour, and then Ryou pulled the covers back over him.

“You can lay beside me if you want to.”

“Why would I want to?” Bakura kept his voice stoic, but he still coveted the living heat of Ryou’s body. 

“I don’t know, but I thought I’d give you permission all the same.” 

“Ever the polite host, aren’t you?” Bakura returned to the Ring. It was cold, but safer.

***

Two weeks later, Ryou tossed and turned. His hands kept brushing against his sides. It’d be so easy to trail his hands across his thighs and to his stiff, aching cock. A few strokes, a few quick jerks, would be all he needed to release the heavy pressure in his groin. But he _couldn’t_ , not with a spirit possessing his body. He wouldn’t be able to concentrate with sarcastic commentary and facetious laughter scrutinizing his every gesture. Ryou sat with an irritated exhale whooshing from his lungs. He twisted his mess of hair into a knot at the crown of his hair and slipped out of bed.

“Don’t you have to meet with your idiot friends in the morning?” 

Ryou turned toward the Spirit who sat at the window. Anger bubbled from deep within Ryou’s chest—or perhaps deep within his loins. In either case, he wanted to snap that if the Spirit thought Ryou should be in bed, he was more than welcome to _put_ him there. Ryou felt his face burn at the thought and he turned away. 

“I want to work on a new campaign. I’ll toss and turn all night thinking about it anyway, might as well work on it and have something to show for my exhaustion in the morning.” 

“Campaign? Of what?” 

“I’m not sure.” Ryou turned away and adjusted himself to make his erection less obvious. Not that the Spirit would check, or even care, but it embarrassed Ryou. “But I’ll know once I start working on it.”

“Hmmmm.” The Spirit purred. 

He walked toward Ryou with a smirk on his face. Ryou tried to dodge out of the way. He was too worked up to be close to the ghost, but the Spirit either didn’t notice, or wanted to be difficult. He slung his arm around Ryou’s neck, leaning close. 

“Need help?”

“You’re touching me. That means you’re trying to manipulate me.”

“ _Yadonushi_ , I’m hurt.” The Spirit fluttered his eyelashes. “We’ve been getting along so well, and here you go accusing me of deception.”

“Did the demon teach you this?” Ryou shook his head, dismissing his own theory and forming a new one. “No, he’d never touch you affectionately, not even to manipulate you. This is a behavior you learned when you were alive. You were attractive in your original body, I imagine. So people would try and wrap their arms around you and sweet talk you into things. You probably learned you could trick them in return if you feigned interest. I’m sure you gave out more knife wounds than kisses, however.” 

“Who can remember so far back?” The Spirit shrugged. 

Ryou cupped the Spirit’s cheek and searched the Spirit’s face for some sign of truth, but it was like searching a deep, murky pool in the dead of a moonless night. 

“I’m sorry if people hurt you when you were alive. I’m sorry.”

“They never lived long enough,” the Spirit snarled and pulled away. 

“I’m sorry if my speculations were too forward.” Ryou shook his head. 

“It’s only natural to be curious.” The Spirit wore his smooth facade again, as if nothing ever bothered him. “In fact, I know of a way we can learn about each other while you work on your next campaign at the same time.” 

“Sounds perfect.” Ryou smiled. 

And it did. It _sounded_ perfect. RPGs? Learning about the enigma that haunted Ryou’s Ring? What more could Ryou want? Except to know the Spirit’s true motivations, but the Spirit wouldn’t give those away. The only thing Ryou could do was permit the Spirit to string him along like a marionette until Ryou could figure out for himself what the Spirit’s real plan was. 

“So suspicious. I can hear it in your voice.” The Spirit clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “But I only want to inspire your next campaign, be your muse, so to speak. Let’s do an Ancient Egyptian diorama.” 

“Based on your life?”

“Mine and the Pharaoh’s. I’ll tell you everything you need to know to build it.”

“Very well. I would enjoy that.” Ryou bowed, polite as ever. 

“None of that.” The Spirit waved Ryou’s bow away. “Just grab your laptop. We need to make some notes before we craft anything.” 

Although Ryou knew he was being treated like a pawn, he couldn’t hide the excitement bubbling inside him. He forgot about his earlier sexual frustration as he and the Spirit sat side by side on Ryou’s sofa. Ryou clacked against the keys of his laptop while the Spirit dictated stuff they’d need, the basic layout of the map, and some of the main characters. Dawn came before Ryou realized it, and he jumped to his feet.

“Oh no. I promised to meet Yugi and the others, and I’m already late. Crap, I need to get ready! Will you put the kettle on the stove for me?”

“I’m not your maid.” The spirit snorted. 

“Please.” Ryou threw his arms around the Spirit’s neck, the exact same as the Spirit had earlier. “I don’t have time for a shower, but I’d at least like some tea.” 

“ _Yadonushi!_ ” The Spirit gasped in mock scandal. “Are you using physical touch to manipulate me?” 

“Maybe.” Ryou leaned a little closer, lidding his eyes. “Not that I think you’re stupid enough to fall for it, but I thought it might amuse you.” 

“It does. I suppose I’ll boil some water if it’ll make you leave me alone.” 

“Thank you.” Ryou kissed the Spirit’s cheek.

His carmine eyes shot wide open. Ryou ran off to change before the Spirit could ruin the moment with a retort. 

***

Battle City, a card game tournament the likes of which Japan had never seen. And, according to the Ring, another Millenium Item was nearby. What luck for Bakura. He let Ryou talk to his friends long enough to fool them, then he took control of the body and went in search for the new Item. Ryou didn’t protest. His host’s curiosity in the Items was enough to make the boy hover at the edge of Bakura’s consciousness but not struggle for control. 

Bakura found what he was looking for at the aquarium. The wielder of the Rod was clearly from an old Egyptian lineage—he wore the same markings as the royal mages, such as Mahad, who protected the tombs long ago. The two of them moved to the pier to talk in private, and the damn brat had the nerve to give Bakura an ultimatum. Bakura snorted to himself, crossing his arms over his chest. To make him an enemy or not, that was the question Bakura asked himself. The breeze carried the distinct scent of brine, and it lifted Bakura’s hair around to his face, tickling him. 

_You understand that I won’t allow you to kill Yugi, right?_

_I only told him that_ maybe _I was planning on getting rid of Yugi._ Bakura kept his face stoic as he answered his host so Malik wouldn't suspect anything.

_So is that your game? Never tell me that you’re not going to kill him. Never tell Malik that you will kill him. Straddle the fence until—_

_I see which side allows me to destroy the Pharaoh._

_Yes, I figured._ There was a pause in his mind, as if his host were sighing. Then Ryou spoke again. _How about this. I’ll help you._

_Oh? Why?_

_Because if I’m more useful to you than Malik, it’ll be in_ your _best interest to keep my friends alive._

_Ho, ho. Clever little yadonushi gets it! What did you have in mind?_

_Agree to help him, since you need to figure out if he actually has important information or not. If he wants to kill Yugi, he’s going to want to get close—the easiest way to get close to Yugi is to be his friend._

_Offering yourself as a sacrifice, are you?_

Bakura blinked as the memory of a woman and small girl flashed through Ryou’s thoughts. The emotions tied to them were strong enough to bleed into Bakura’s mind. He _understood_ the emotions. Grief, helplessness, the shame of not being able to save a family—they were the same razor blades which shredded Bakura’s once human heart to shoe strings. Those feelings were the reason he’d embraced a demon and with Zorc—numbness. But Ryou had a dangerous way of thawing the ice in Bakura's soul, and he was dredging up every stab of sorrow, of regret, Bakura had ever felt about his village. 

_I refuse to allow anyone I care about to ever be hurt again. Do what you need to in order to get the information out of Malik, but_ do not hurt my friends. 

_Very well, Ryou. We have a deal._

_You used my—_

“All right. Five minutes is up,” Malik interrupted them. “Now you either die… or join forces with me. What’s your choice?”

_Malik, eh?_

Bakura considered the man in front of him. The gold around his throat and arms flashed in the fierce sunlight above them. Bakura found himself being distracted by him. Ally, or enemy, Malik was dangerous. 

_But this man holds the key to the door of darkness_ **.**

Bakura figured his best option was to go with Ryou’s plan and appease Malik… for the time being. Bakura shoved his hands in his pockets, his right thumb glided against the pocket knife he always carried with him. 

“If you want to hurt Yugi the easiest way is to go through his friends. I’ve been waiting for the right moment myself.” 

Malik sneered at Bakura, holding up the Rod and thumbing the top of the scepter in the same way Bakura toyed with his knife. 

“I know. I already plan to use them. That’s why I have the Millennium Rod.”

Bakura clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Their bond is strong. They’ll know instantly that you’re up to no good, but _I_ have a convenient hiding place: my host. Maybe that could prove… useful.”

 _Thank you, Spirit._ Ryou whispered in his thoughts. 

_Don’t thank me yet. This next part will hurt like hell._

“‘Host’ eh? And how will you do that?” Malik smirked. 

“Heh-heh. My answer is…” Bakura flicked the knife out of his pocket and licked up the blade. “This.” 

He plunged the blade below his left shoulder, laughing through the pain even as Ryou shouted in the back of their mind. It wouldn’t do to have evidence with him, so Bakura flung the knife into the water. His laughter grew louder, blood loss making him giddy. 

“ _H-heh heh heh_. I’ll lend you my host.”

 _Lend me out because I’m just a sweet little cup of sugar_ , Ryou thought, also loopy from the blood gushing in hot waves down their arm. 

Bakura laughed again. He could hear Malik’s smug chuckles over the waves beneath them. He took a step forward. 

_Well, have fun being his puppet._ Bakura thought with a snort, switching places with Ryou. 

_Wait, what?_

“Ngh.” Ryou dropped face-first onto the pier. 

***

Ryou came to because of a slight tickle brushing against his face. His eyes fluttered and he saw a wave of golden hair cascading from above him. Malik knelt and wrapped cloth around Ryou’s arm to slow most of the blood loss. 

_Spirit… why?_

_You wanted to sacrifice yourself for the benefit of your friends._

_But why did we switch?_ You _should deal with this._

_It’ll be far more convincing if you’re the one they speak to._

Ryou groaned. His arm was on fire. He tried curling his fingers and managed, although his control was clumsy. Malik finished with the bandages and hoisted Ryou over the side of his bike. Ryou closed his eyes, allowing his weight to drop against the support of the bike’s leather seat. He could hear another voice in his mind—neither his nor the Spirit’s. 

_Lord Malik, Jounouchi’s duel is over. We await your orders, shall we capture him now as planned?_

_No, don’t touch him. There’s been a change in plans... We have an ally._

Jounouchi was no longer in danger because of their new plan. Ryou could only hope his actions would keep Yugi safe as well. Ryou whispered to the Spirit in his mind. 

_How were we able to hear that?_

_He’s linked his mind to yours with the Rod._

The next thought wasn’t a thought at all, not really. Ryou kept the notion in the back of his head, more of a concept than thought-out words, and the concept was: _does that mean he can hear us_? 

Bakura’s response was a sense of wariness, and Ryou understood. Don’t risk it, assume their thoughts were being broadcasted. 

“Time to wake up…” Malik raked his fingers through Ryou’s hair, tugging upward. 

Ryou gave a grunt. The hair tugging was pleasant, disturbingly so, but the pain in his arm distracted Ryou so he couldn’t enjoy it. He allowed Malik to pull him to his feet. 

“I suppose it can’t be helped.” Malik snorted as he slung Ryou’s arm over his shoulder.

Ryou leaned his weight on Malik as they stumbled down the street. He wanted to curl on top of Malik and fall asleep, perhaps forever. Not only was he exhausted from the blood rushing down his arm and dripping from his fingers, but Malik was surprisingly strong considering how scrawny he was, and it was nice to lean against someone even if the circumstances were...less than ideal. A low, weary giggle escaped Ryou as they walked. Malik wore a cologne unlike anything Ryou had ever smelled before. He inhaled deeply, succumbing to the moment. 

_Blood loss_ , the Spirit explained. _You’re delusional._

Ryou was aware. He sent a jolt of irritation toward the Spirit because _who’s fault was that, hm?_ But then they reached Jounouchi and Anzu. Seeing them safe was a relief. Ryou crashed to his knees. Malik half-crouched beside him, and Jounouchi dropped in front of Ryou. 

“Bakura! Who did this to you?” 

“Jounouchi?” Ryou asked, stalling as he thought of what to say. He decided to play the innocent amnesiac. “I-I don’t know. I don’t remember. When I… woke up…” 

“I’ll call an ambulance!” Malik declared with mock concern in order to veer the conversation away from questions, and for that Ryou was grateful. The less the others knew—the safer they were. 

“Thank you. We’ll take care of him now.” Anzu nodded in Malik’s direction. 

“That’s him! That’s the guy who stole my duel disk!” A voice shouted from the thick of the crowd. 

_Dammit_ , the Spirit swore in the back of their mind. 

“Hey, punk! Thanks for stealing my duel disk!”

Ryou almost said _you’re welcome_ out of sheer, polite habit, but swallowed and stuttered. “Y-your duel disk? How did I? I don’t know how it got here…”

 _It was I, the duel disk fairy_ , the Spirit snickered. 

_Quiet, idiot! I’m already trying to cover for you! Don’t make me laugh!_

“Yeah right!” The duelist shouted, cocking his fist. “Just give it back!” 

Malik came to their rescue again, jumping in front of them with arms outstretched. “Stop! He’s hurt!” 

“You mean he’s gonna be!” The duelist swung, clocking Malik right in the jaw and sending him sprawling. 

The Spirit roared in laughter as he watched from the back of Ryou’s mind. 

Anzu went to make sure Malik was okay, while Jounouchi cracked his knuckles. 

“Why you fuckers. I’ll deal with you guys!” 

With that Jounouchi tore into the duelist and his friend. It reminded Ryou of cats fighting in an alley. Jounouchi was amazing to watch. Each swing connected as Jounouchi barraged them with punches. A few minutes later, both of the other guys were crumpled in a heap in the street, and then Yugi’s grandfather led Ryou to a cab so they could ride to the hospital.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for late update. It's been a stressful week. 
> 
> Hopefully this 8,000 word chapter will make up for the wait. (me glancing at that word count: why the hell is it so long?) Uh, I guess I just really didn't want to break up the lemon and Bakura's freaking dragging this out b/c he's afraid of having a good time. Well, anyway, you know how things escalate in my fics. First two chapters play out like your typical slow burn, but by chapter 3 I'm bored w/all that and it's time for a 3-way (I mean, chapter 3, 3-some, sounds appropriate to me!) Enough sleep deprived rambling, I'm going to bed.

Ryou’s body lay in the hospital, but his spirit lay on the bed in his soul room. He was bored. There was only so much he could do by himself before he longed for someone to talk to. 

The Spirit appeared then, as if summoned by Ryou’s will. He sat with his legs and arms crossed. 

“Are you okay?” Ryou asked when he noticed the Spirit was also chewing on the inside of his cheek. 

“That idiot Malik had better not screw this up.”

“Did you get a lecture from your crappy demon boyfriend for working with a partner?” Ryou snorted before leaning against the pillows and returning his gaze to the ceiling. 

“Your juvenile attempt to get under my skin is unbecoming of you, _Yadonushi_.” 

“I think Zorc is jealous. Malik Ishtar is so hot I’m surprised the pavement doesn’t melt when he walks down the street. If I were you, I'd dump the demon and flirt with Malik instead. Stop settling for an stupid, ugly, worthless—”

“I wouldn’t antagonize a dark god if I were you.” Bakura gritted his teeth. 

“What’s he going to do if I piss him off? Possess my body? Stab me? Try to kill my friends?”

“Is this sarcasm? Why, host, I do believe I’ve been a rotten influence on you.” 

“I know you won’t listen to reason about Zorc, but _I_ want to imagine how much fun would be to flirt with Malik.” 

“It’s your soul room, I suppose you can do whatever you want in it.” Bakura scoffed. 

“I will, thank you very much.” Ryou crossed his arms over his chest and turned away from the Spirit. 

Bad enough he couldn’t touch himself when he had control of his body, but even Ryou couldn’t deny his own urges when in his soul room. His mind played through a few innocent people scenarios. Motorcycle rides. Ice cream dates. Slow dancing. He remembered how it felt when Malik helped him walk and used the sensory input to imagine Malik’s arms wrapped around Ryou as they swayed side to side. The last fantasy took on a life of its own. The dream version of Malik gave Ryou an intense stare with his vibrant, lavender eyes as he pressed Ryou backward until Ryou was pressed against the wall. Shoving Ryou’s wrists over his head, Malik dove in and stole a demanding kiss, hand gripping Ryou’s pants and popping the button free. 

“Ho ho! That last one went a little past flirting. Why host, I knew you had a good imagination, but that was _filthy_ ,” Bakura taunted. 

“Maybe my imagination ran away a little.” Ryou blushed. “But I want to know what it feels like. Flirting. Going on a date. _Especially_ with someone as cute as Malik. Maybe something nice, like coffee. Do you drink coffee? I usually drink tea, but I wouldn’t mind getting coffee with a guy.” 

“Is this what you do when I lock you in here? Think of idiotic human courting rituals?” 

“Sometimes.” Ryou shrugged. 

“Vulgar.” The Spirit wrinkled his nose.

“You’re fucking a demon, don’t you dare kinkshame me for wanting to hold hands and drink coffee with someone!” Ryou turned to face the spirit once again. 

“Yes. Fucking. It’s simply that. No useless emotions to waste our time.”

“That’s so boring. I can’t believe you make sex with _a demon_ sound like a waste of time.”

“It’s not boring.”

“Where is the tension?” Ryou insisted. “How Zorc ever made your heart race? Or your palms sweat? Have you ever been so nervous you feel like you're turning inside out?”

“I fail to see how that’s a desirable state to be in.” The Spirit laughed so hard he had to hold his stomach. 

“You’re not imagining it right.” Ryou smacked his hands on his lap. “The anticipation is half the fun. Waiting all night as you go see a movie. Feeling electrocuted when your hands brush together. Imagine the end of the night. Climbing off his motorcycle and having him walk us to the door—”

“Is it us now?”

“Well, we’re stuck in the same body for now, so I suppose any dates automatically become a buy one get one free deal, don’t they? You’re missing the point. Imagine how it would _feel_.” 

Ryou crawled to the Spirit, clasping their hands together. He narrated his own actions step by step. 

“We’ve waited all night, and only now are we holding hands. He leans closer. Our eyes close, but our lips separate. There’s a hesitation in the air. It’s so thick it’s maddening. You want his mouth against you so badly you’re going to scream, but then…”

“Ryou…” the Spirit whispered. 

Ryou's eyes _had_ closed, so he fluttered them back open. He sucked in a soft breath as he stared at the Spirit’s face. The Spirit had closed his eyes as well, and parted his lips, as if Ryou accidentally cast a spell to make his story real. Sighing, Ryou slid his hand up the Spirit’s cheek. When the Spirit leaned into the touch instead of away from it, Ryou bridged the gap between them.

Their lips tingled as they pressed together. An insatiable urge to shove Bakura onto the bed overwhelmed Ryou, but he moved to pull away Instead. However, the Spirit whimpered when Ryou eased away, so instead of breaking the kiss—he plunged closer and deepened it. The Spirit moaned and pawed at Ryou’s shirt. Their tongues slipped together before retreating and giving their lips more room to play. The delight of Bakura’s sounds filled Ryou’s belly with energy. Spurred on by the Spirit’s reactions, Ryou’s opposite hand cradled the back of the Spirit’s head.

Ryou didn’t _need_ to breathe in his soul room. He took advantage of the perk, swirling his tongue inside the Spirit’s mouth and refusing to stop. They kissed until their mouths gleamed. While Ryou’s fingers brushed along the Spirit’s cheek, he felt a slice of raised skin beneath the Spirit’s eye. Ryou traced the barely-there image of a scar he never noticed before. 

“When I was alive,” the Spirit whispered against Ryou’s mouth. 

“You’re… I thought you looked like a twisted version of me.” Ryou said between heated sweeps of their mouths against each other. 

“I do, in a sense, but I used to be dark-skinned.” 

“I always thought it was odd you were shorter than me.”

“Only a few centimeters,” the Spirit grumbled, but stole another kiss nonetheless. 

“Could you draw a picture? I’d like to see what you looked like.” Ryou wiped his mouth and gazed at the Spirit. 

“All in good time.” Bakura smirked. “There’s still our little game we’re building together, remember?” 

“True. Too bad I can’t work on it right now. Although, actually...” Ryou plucked three more kisses from the Spirit’s lips. “I think this is a better way to spend the time.” 

“I…” The Spirit turned away, but Ryou caught the slight tremble in his shoulders. “I don't see the appeal.” 

“You whimpered for more.” Ryou grit his teeth. He knew the Spirit was lying, but it still hurt to hear him say he hadn’t liked it. 

“You humans are so easy to fool.” Bakura scrubbed his mouth with his sleeve. 

“You’re a coward,” Ryou growled. “Why are you here if you didn't want to spend time with me? Go back to Zorc and leave me alone!” 

Ryou curled into a ball, back pressed against the headboard. He rested his forehead on top of his knees and told himself not to cry in front of the Spirit. He sniffed a few times, but managed to keep his tears locked in his chest. Bakura stared at Ryou. For all his bold talk, he looked lost, but Ryou could conjure any sympathy for him. His hands clenched to fists. He opened his mouth to scream for Bakura to leave, when Malik appeared a few feet from the bed. 

“Bakura.”

“Well? Did you succeed?” Bakura raised an eyebrow. 

“There’s been a slight change in plans.” Malik stared around the room. 

Malik’s gaze stripped Ryou bare. The clusters of games, figurines, and art supplies were representations of his soul. He had pictures of his family on the walls. Everything was too visible for Malik’s indifferent, yet somehow scrutinizing, gaze. 

“Clever way to say you failed.” The Spirit snorted. 

“I need you to gather five locator cards and meet me in the tournament finals.” 

“Yeah, sure. I only needed a blood transfusion, but let's go play card games.” Ryou threw his hands into the air and let them fall to the bed. “Not to mention I was _dehydrated_ because a certain _idiot_ spirit forgets to _eat and drink_ , but no problem. We'll be happy to stroll out of the hospital and get locator cards. Needs some bread and eggs while we’re walking around town?” 

“Is your vessel always this impertinent?” Malik raised an eyebrow. 

“You’ll have to excuse him. He’s a bit sexually frustrated.” The Spirit chuckled. 

Ryou’s cheeks burned. He pressed his lips together, nails digging into his palms. Of course the Spirit was mocking him. Of course he had a sardonic answer to Malik’s question without acknowledging that Ryou wouldn’t be so frustrated if he could have a _social_ _life_ without risking his dates going into a coma. Or maybe if he could _jerk off_ like a normal teenager without feeling like he’d be _mock_ ed by a _stupid evil spirit_. Or maybe if he hadn’t just moments ago gotten his first kiss from a _stupid evil spirit_ who didn’t even have the guts to admit that _he had enjoyed it as much as Ryou had_. 

He was fed up— _and yes he was sexually frustrated_ —to the point of tears, actually. He was 19. It shouldn’t be asking too much to be able to use his body for an afternoon to laze around, cuddle, and make out like a regular teenager instead of always being involved in some sort of death game. 

His imagination betrayed him, putting a clear and detailed image in his mind of what it would be like if he and Malik were kissing on top of a pile of blankets and fluffed-up pillows, sinking into the comfort around them as their fingers intertwined. He tried to brush the fantasy aside before the Spirit laughed at him. 

Too late. The Spirit roared in laughter, and Malik cleared his throat. 

“Dammit,” Ryou swore to himself. Yes. Mind Link. He’d forgotten that it wasn’t _only_ the Spirit who could catch glimpses of his thoughts—especially when they were in his soul room. As if the entire debacle wasn’t embarrassing enough—Malik had seen the fantasy as well. 

“As I was saying…” the Spirit dropped backward on the mattress as he laughed.

His hair swirled around him, a lovely white mess. It infuriated Ryou, how pretty it looked, how beautiful the Spirit was when he laughed. Ryou didn’t have the courage to look at Malik, and knew it didn’t matter because Ryou might as well have been invisible as far as the other two were concerned—just a host. He was no more important than the walls of a room. They could see him, but he was in the background. Neither of them cared about his presence. 

But damn he wanted to pin them against those very walls and kiss them both until their legs were weak and their breathing ragged. He wanted to grab their hair, and lick up their necks, and kiss their bodies so sweetly that they'd toss their heads back and cry out for more, and Ryou would give them more. He would give them anything they desired if they’d only ask. 

“Actually…” Malik sat on the bed beside Ryou, using the Rod to lift Ryou’s chin so Ryou looked at Malik. “It might be a bad idea to continue our plans with your vessel in such an agitated state. Perhaps we should relieve him of his pent-up tension.” 

Ryou glared at Malik, angry at how painfully attractive he was. Ryou wouldn’t be so flustered if said beautiful male wasn’t on the bed of his soul room—the very heart of Ryou’s existence—giving him a _come hither_ stare. It was all Ryou could do to keep himself from lunging at Malik. 

"You think too much," Malik growled in a sultry voice. “You should act more.” 

Before Ryou knew what they were doing, Malik leaned in. It was terribly clumsy, Malik’s first kiss. Ryou didn’t need a mind link to understand Malik also spent too much time with dark games and not enough time dating. They fought a bit before their mouths managed to line up. Then suddenly, like a gasp of fresh air, they were in sync and massaging their lips together with an almost desperate fervor. Ryou’s pulse raced as he gripped Malik’s arm, frantic to keep their bodies connected. He slid his other other hand along Malik’s hip, and a guttural moan escaped Malik’s mouth. Ryou licked above the gold circling Malik’s throat. Malik gasped and gripped Ryou’s shoulder.

“You smell really nice.” Ryou kissed his way to Malik’s lips. 

“I like your hair.” Malik accepted Ryou’s tongue the moment it slipped into Malik’s mouth. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” The Spirit shot them an incredulous look. “Now? You two are going to do this right now?” 

“What is your problem?” Malik shot back, breaking their kiss. 

“This.” The Spirit gestured at them with both hands. “You’re really going to indulge in this?” 

“Why not?” Malik challenged Bakura’s protest. 

“It’s a waste of time.” 

“Don’t mind him.” Ryou interrupted. “He’s worried that his jealous, _ugly,_ demon boyfriend will get mad at him if he actually _enjoyed himself_ for once.” 

The Spirit snorted, but Malik thought over Ryou’s words. 

“You’re… intimate? With the dark intelligence that exists in the Items?” 

“Is that any concern of yours?” The Spirit asked, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“I don’t care, but I’m not sure… it’s a good idea. That’s all.” Malik stared at the Rod. “The Items—”

“Don’t act like _you_ know more about _my_ Items than I do,” the Spirit growled. 

“ _Your_ Items?” Malik laughed. 

“They are connected to him. He was alive at the same time as the Pharaoh,” Ryou whispered, knowing the Spirit wouldn’t volunteer any information to explain himself, but also knowing that he’d be angry if Ryou spoke too much about it. 

“Makes sense.” Malik flipped his hair over his shoulder as if he didn’t have time to worry about Bakura’s trivial backstory. “In any case, unless you’re in a monogamous relationship with your demon lover, then I see no reason why you can’t join us and get your host back under control—he’s your responsibility, isn’t he?” 

Ryou narrowed his eyes, trying to decide if Malik meant what he said about getting Ryou “back under control,” or if he were merely acting tough and indifferent in front of the Spirit. Ryou fumbled for the mind link between them, but something dark and savage guarded Malik’s thoughts and Ryou couldn’t sense much, but a vague excitement surged through Ryou at the thought of that raw, primal energy hiding inside of Malik’s mind grabbing Ryou’s hair and marking Ryou’s neck with love bites. Malik’s cheeks darkened at Ryou’s latest day dream. 

“Fine,” the Spirit said. “If it will allow us to continue with our plan, then let’s get this over with.” 

“Get this over with? I’m not a chore!” Ryou shouted. “You both can go play your stupid card game if that’s what this is.” 

“No, this isn’t a chore.” Malik grabbed at Ryou’s shirt, brushing their noses. “Think of it as… a friendly game.”

“Friendly game? Does that make us friends?” Ryou asked. He was being sarcastic, but he _wished_ they could actually be friends instead of conspirators. 

“Sure.” Malik smirked. “Good friends.”

Ryou rolled his eyes. “I’ll be sure to call out Namu when things get heated.”

“No.” Malik frowned, letting go of Ryou’s shirt. “Don’t use that name. It’s fake.” 

“Fake name for a fake date,” Ryou mumbled. 

“Look. We don’t have time for dinner and a movie.” Malik’s shoulders slumped before he caught himself and corrected his posture. “But you did manage to… pique my curiosity, with the images I saw from your mind. I can’t offer you a full romance, but I can kiss you.” Malik pressed a kiss into Ryou’s mouth. 

“To get me back under control?” Ryou threw Malik’s earlier words back at him. 

“If I truly desired to control you with the Rod—I could—but that’s not what I want. This isn’t manipulation, this is… experimentation.” 

“Experimentation?” 

“I’ve never kissed anyone either.” Malik fidgeted with the wings on the Rod. “I...want to know what it’s like too, okay? Being with someone, letting go even if it’s just a single afternoon. If you want to, under these circumstances...you can have me.” 

“Each other.” Ryou rose to his knees, tilted Malik’s face, and placed the sweetest kiss he could manage against Malik’s lips.”We can have each other.” 

Malik melted in Ryou’s hold, carding his fingers through Ryou’s hair and sighing through his nostrils. After a few minutes of heavy making out, Ryou slipped out of his shirt. The Spirit’s expression grew perturbed when his own shirt disappeared. Malik chuckled at the Spirit’s frustration. 

“Shut-up.” Bakura scowled. 

“If you’re not going to join us, scurry away and entertain yourself for a few minutes.” Malik lidded his eyes as he admired Ryou’s torso. “Or maybe an hour. I’m in no hurry for this to be over.” 

“There’s no way I’m leaving you two alone. We have work to do, so hurry and fuck so we can discuss our plans.” 

“Gods, Bakura, I can’t just cram in dry and get to it. I told you, this is our change to _experiment_. Give us a damn minute to find out what we like.” Malik laughed, a mix of nervous and excited. 

“What’s there to figure out? You thrust. You come. It’s over.” Bakura gestured with his hands, glaring at both of them as if he couldn’t figure out why they were so dumb. 

“Holy shit, you don’t even know what foreplay _is_ , do you?” Ryou smack his forehead. 

“Well, at least I’m not the most ignorant person in the room.” A bashful smile slipped onto Malik’s face. 

“I don’t see the point of foreplay except to waste time.” Bakura gritted his teeth. 

“Have you ever tried it?” Ryou growled. 

“Of course not. That’s human nonsense.” 

“Well, we are humans. Maybe we could help you understand it a little better.” 

Malik, crawled to Bakura, dipped his head, and swirled his tongue along the Spirit’s naked chest. The Spirit blinked, tolerating Malik’s ministrations, but oddly neutral about them. When he didn’t get a reaction, Malik shifted and kissed Ryou’s chest instead. Ryou arched, reaching up and dragging his fingers through Malik’s hair. The strands were soft, sleek, and smooth. Ryou sighed, his heart speeding up with excitement. He’d been so curious, what it’d be like to be able to grab, and kiss, and squirm against Malik, and now he was doing exactly that, he realized it was… wonderful. He wrapped his legs around Malik, squeezing. Ryou whimpered to encourage Malik to keep kissing his body. 

“Don’t stop. Never stop.” Ryou played with Malik’s hair and arched his chest a little higher. 

Malik muttered something against Ryou’s skin, biting Ryou’s nipple before he flicked his tongue against the hardening bud. He kissed his way to Ryou’s neck, brushing the white hair aside before fulfilling Ryou’s earlier daydream of love bites on his neck. 

“Malik,” Ryou squealed, hitching with each bite. 

“Bakura, did you realize your host likes it rough?” Malik asked as he tugged on Ryou’s hair. 

" _Ah,_ more please."

Ryou grunted, face burning with arousal as Malik yanked his hair. Ryou kissed Malik’s shoulder peeking from his purple, sleeveless hoodie. He moaned each time Malik bit, but kept his kisses feather-light against Malik’s skin, sensing Malik preferred a more gentle touch. Malik caught Ryou’s lips again, sucking against them before dropping to Ryou’s opposite nipple. Ryou cried out as Malik pinched and twisted his nipples. Pleasure jolted from Ryou’s chest to his balls. Malik popped up his head and glanced at the Spirit. Bakura stared at them with a strange and curious expression on his face. 

“Well? You just going to watch?” 

“Watching seems adequate." Bakura bristled, his cheeks darkening. "Both of us slobbering over my host won’t accomplish anything you can’t do on your own.” 

“You have no idea how much fun you’re missing.” Malik snorted before dropping back down. 

“Or how good it feels.” Ryou spoke in a distracted, far away voice—too focused on the way Malik’s fingers danced across his skin. “Which is something I don’t think you’ve ever truly experienced.” 

“How good can you feel? You can’t come like that.” Bakura shook his head. “You idiots still have your pants on.” 

The argument was moot. In Ryou’s soul room Bakura would have a good sense of _exactly_ how much Ryou enjoyed Malik’s bites and pinches, but the Spirit was denying his interest the same way he denied his desire to be kissed. He did a good job hiding it on the outside, but their souls were too linked for him to completely fool Ryou. 

“But when I come later, it’ll be breathtaking,” Ryou explained. 

“You think so?” Malik grinned between light, rapid kisses to Ryou’s lips. 

“Yes, I do.” Ryou stroked Malik’s hair. 

Ryou fumbled for the tent in Malik’s khakis. He rubbed his palm against Malik’s cock and Malik writhed beneath Ryou’s touch. Malik gasped, thick lips parting and silently begging Ryou to kiss him. Ryou kneaded their mouths together, dabbing his tongue along the frame of Malik’s lips. Malik tugged at the waist of Ryou’s jeans, so Ryou fisted the material around Malik’s heart. Malik slid his hands behind Ryou, grabbing his ass and nudging their groins together. Both their breaths hitched as the pressure from their erect cocks pressed through their pants. 

“How much more of his unnecessary display must we suffer through before one of you finally shoves it in and actually does something?” The Spirit frowned. “All this excessive touching is giving me a headache.” 

“Quit lying. You want to join us, but you’re a coward! Spirit, I’m sorry but someone needs to say it—Necrophades sounds like an incompetent lover.” Ryou stared at the vaulted ceilings in his soul room. “No kissing? No foreplay? _Do you even come_? Or do you just lay back and wait for him to finish and tell you when it’s over?” 

“Yes. I come.” The Spirit snarled. “Not that it’s any of your concern.” 

“I bet you have to jerk yourself off to finish,” Ryou snapped, fed up with Bakura’s denial, and his quips. “It makes my blood boil when I think of how bad your experiences must be. You want to watch. Fine! I’m going to give you one hell of a show to demonstrate that sex is more that three pumps and a nap.” 

Ryou dropped to his knees beside the bed. 

“Malik, remove your pants, please.” Ryou gave him a demure look, licking his lips to suggest what he had in mind. 

Malik’s eyes unfocused and his mouth dropped. With sudden, giddy eagerness, Malik scrambled out of his pants and dropped his ass onto the mattress. Despite his own impatience, Ryou started at Malik’s knees. He kissed around them, travelling to Malik’s thighs. With both hands, Ryou pushed Malik’s legs apart. Malik’s breath grew shallow and his entire body heated beneath Ryou’s touch. With Malik wide before him, he flicked his tongue where Malik’s thigh and torso met. Malik hitched. His breath was loud in the quiet soul room. Ryou guided his tongue to Malik’s shaved balls, lapping at them and then sucking gently. 

“ _Oh yes,”_ Malik gasped as he leaned onto his elbows. “Bakura, what a good little vessel you have.”

“My name is _Bakura Ryou_.” Ryou popped up, frowning at Malik. 

“Huh? Oh, Ryou?” Malik asked as if he were genuinely surprised to learn that Ryou had an actual name. 

Instead of arguing, Ryou licked the slit of Malik’s cockhead. 

“Oh Ryou!” Malik tossed his head back and shouted. “C-could you… maybe, do that again?” 

“Say please.” Ryou blew against Malik’s hot tip. 

Malik grunted, but he capitulated. “Please, Ryou.” 

“Anything you want, Malik.” Ryou did better than lick, he wrapped his lips around Malik’s hood and sucked upward. 

“ _Ngh_!” Malik clutched at the sheets below him. “Holy shit!” 

Ryou rolled his tongue around Malik’s head and licked his shaft. He sucked on Malik’s balls for another minute before opening his mouth wide and dropping all the way to Malik’s base. He hid his teeth behind his lips so he could bob up and down without grazing Malik. Malik bucked in time with Ryou’s mouth. His breathing was hard and irregular; his fingers twisted in Ryou’s hair and tugged. 

“Yes. Yes. Gods, Ryou, fuck.” Malik jerked on Ryou’s hair again. 

The hair pulling made Ryou’s cock twitch. He opened his mind as much as he could, trying to send the feeling over to the Spirit. Faint traces of Malik’s arousal also filtered through to Ryou’s consciousness, intensifying his own desire. 

“Oh gods, oh gods, oh— _ahhhhh_!” Malik spasmed, not yet coming, but he was close. His cock throbbed against his tongue. 

Ryou sped up, holding Malik at the base, twisting his strokes as his mouth plunged down. Ryou’s strokes were slightly uncoordinated, not having much of a chance to practice his technique, even on himself, but Malik still wailed like Ryou was doing an amazing job, so he kept going as fast as he could manage. 

“ _Ahh—ahh—ahh—Ryou!—ahh—ahhh—ahhh. Ngggh! Ahhhhhh!”_ Malik jerked his hips, using Ryou’s hair like reins and trying to control Ryou’s bobbing even as he came down Ryou’s throat. 

The heat and thickness of Malik’s come surprised Ryou, but he swallowed everything, and then deliberately pulled his lips away, making Malik shudder in aftershock as he did it. 

“Um…” Ryou’s face burned, shy and self-conscious all at once. “I hope that was okay. I never really had a chance to—”

“I’ve never felt this good in my entire life.” Malik closed his eyes and groaned. “Oh my gods, my entire body is still tingling. I… ah, holy shit, Ryou, that was wonderful.” 

“Oh good.” Ryou giggled, drunk off of Malik’s satisfaction and praise. 

“Why are _you_ so happy? You didn’t get off?” The Spirit scowled at Ryou. 

“I’m happy because Malik is happy.”

“So? How does making _someone else_ feel good make _you_ happy?” 

Ryou unzipped and slipped out of his pants. He needed the pressure off of his own cock. He crooked his finger at the now-naked Spirit. 

“Experience is the best teacher. Why don’t you come over here and learn on your own?” 

“Because it sounds ridiculous.” The Spirit stayed in place. 

“Bakura, really?” Malik shot him a glance before rolling his eyes.

“Well I don't see you rushing to return the favor.”

“Let me catch my breath.” Malik laughed, pushing himself upright again. He gave Ryou a playful, seductive look. “I'm actually looking forward to it.”

Ryou felt himself blush. “Should I lie on the bed?”

“Whatever you find comfortable.” Malik straightened both his shirts, but kept his pants on the floor.

Ryou sat with his back against the headboard, bending his knees. Malik's stare locked onto Ryou, tracing all the lines of Ryou's form. The attention warmed Ryou's entire body.

“You're missing out,” Malik teased the Spirit. “I don't know why you'd want to pass the opportunity to touch him. _Look at him_.” 

“I'm aware of what my host looks like.” 

“No you aren't.” Malik slung his arm around the Spirit's shoulder and pulled him closer. 

The Spirit looked down at Ryou and Ryou looked up at him in return. Ryou had had… _reluctant_ fantasies about this, about laying naked in bed with the Spirit assessing him like a watch he might want to pickpocket.

It’d never been fair, in Ryou's mind. Stuck with an evil spirit, one might assume that _some_ sort of lewd mishaps would eventually happen. How many nights had Ryou dreamed of thunderstorms and a dark shadow stalking him? How many long showers had Ryou imagined the Spirit watching him like a hungry wolf? But no, when it came to seduction, the Spirit was disappointingly respectful to Ryou's body (despite having no such morals when it came to doing literally anything else with Ryou's body, such as stabbing, neglecting, or possessing). 

Ryou needed far less stabbing and far more ravaging in his opinion. 

“Look at him.” Malik licked along the shell of the Spirit's earlobe before speaking again. “Take a real look at him. The blush on his face. The way his eyes are blown out with desire. His sharp breathing. His tense muscles. You're such a cruel spirit, making him pine like this.” 

“He likes affection.” The Spirit spoke as if Ryou had offended him.

“To think that the ancient Spirit of the Ring is afraid that he might have to snuggle after a good lay. You’re pathetic.” Malik mocked him. 

“Are you saying _you’re_ the type to cuddle after sex?”

“Never thought about cuddling or sex before, but now that I’m here, I can’t wait to snuggle beside him after we’re done.” he winked in Ryou’s direction. Ryou flushed. 

Malik bent low, making a grand display of kissing up and down Ryou’s body. Ryou panted and clutched the shirt on Malik’s back. Malik grabbed his hand, laced their fingers together, and pinned Ryou’s right hand down in the process. A particular thrill spread throughout Ryou’s chest. Kisses were fantastic, but kisses _while their fingers were interlocked_ …transcendent. 

“Well?” Malik raised his head, glancing over his shoulder to the Spirit. 

The Spirit stared another moment, cheeks the color of sakura blossoms. To Ryou’s amazement, the Spirit drew closer. Ryou’s breath hitched. The anticipation alone drove Ryou wild. The Spirit stuck out his tongue and… gave Ryou’s cock head the quickest, most timid, most disappointing lick in the history of sucking cock. Which was a long and proud history, of that Ryou was sure. 

Ryou growled in frustration, but Malik exploded with laughter. 

“What?” The Spirit shouted. 

“That was pathetic,” Malik said. 

“How so? Ryou did the same to you and you screamed his name and asked for more.”

“Yes but when Ryou did it, he did it like he _wanted it_. You licked him like you were afraid of his cock.” 

“Why would I be afraid of a mortal’s cock? It doesn’t even have teeth!” Bakura argued, his pride clearly hurt by Malik’s comment. 

“Sweet, baby Horus, I did _not_ need to hear that.” Malik pretended to cover his ears, but he was still laughing. 

Malik was gorgeous, but he was beyond gorgeous when he laughed. His eyes crinkled shut, and his cheeks glowered, and the sound filling Ryou's soul room healed some of the pain Ryou always carried.

Ryou was giggling as well. Only the fact that this was still the most attention that he’d ever had paid to his body allowed his dick to maintain its erection as he shook with light-hearted chuckles. 

“How does that even work?” Ryou couldn’t help but ask. 

The Spirit shrugged. “Things get pretty metaphysical in the Ring. More so than even soul rooms.” 

“Well, here we like our symbolism to be concrete and not abstract. Watch, Bakura.” Malik grabbed Ryou’s base and flattened the width of his tongue against Ryou’s shaft, dragging his lick all the way to the tip. 

“ _Holy shit!_ ” Ryou screamed, almost coming from the wet and pleasant shock of Malik’s tongue on his skin. 

Ryou slammed his eyes shut, forcing his breath to slow, forcing himself to calm down. He _refused_ to come with a few licks after waiting _so long_ to be able to enjoy a moment _just like this one._ With a growl, Bakura tried again. The tip of his tongue curled along the rim of Ryou’s cockhead. It was still a meek, unsure action. 

“A little better, but do it like you’re kissing it.” Malik demonstrated again, swirling his tongue around the circumference of the tip. 

“I-I need a cock ring.” Ryou gripped the sheets and held his breath. 

He only knew about cockrings because he heard Yugi and Jounouchi talk about them one day. (Thank goodness for friends!) He imagined one in the drawer of the nightstand near his bed. Since they were in his soul room that should have been enough to make one exist. 

“Will you grab it out of my nightstand, please?” 

“You practice while I fetch it.” Malik moved so he could search Ryou’s drawer. 

Meanwhile, Bakura flicked his tongue back and forth. He managed to pull a huff from Ryou’s mouth as he wiggled his tongue. Malik grabbed a box, opened it up, and pulled out a circular band. 

“Thank you, Malik. Bring it here, please.” 

Malik wrapped the cockring around Ryou’s balls, and not a moment too soon, the Spirit was warming up to licking Ryou slower and more sensually, and Ryou struggled to keep control of himself. After Malik fitted the cockring around Ryou, he grabbed Ryou’s base with his right hand. With his left, Malik tugged Bakura closer by the hair. 

“You ever been kissed before?” Malik asked with a lidded stare. 

“Of course I have!” 

“Oh please.” Ryou rolled his eyes. “I gave you your first kiss five minutes before Malik showed up.” 

“Don’t listen to the host. He lies.” 

“I’m sure _he’s_ the one I have to worry about lying.” Malik smirked. 

A natural silence settled over them as they all exchanged looks. Without warning, Malik kissed the Spirit, pressing his tongue into the Spirit’s mouth. The Spirit whimpered again, begging for more with the little squeaks and moans he made. Ryou’s cock gave an impatient twitch in Malik’s hand. Malik noticed, pulling Bakura lower before breaking their kiss. Malik maneuvered Ryou’s cock between them. 

“Do it like that,” Malik said.

He and the Spirit opened their mouths at the same time, attempting to French kiss around Ryou’s cockhead. Ryou let out a long, desperate string of O’s. Precum dribbled down his slit and the Spirit lapped it up. 

“Spirit!” Ryou moaned. “W-what should I call you?” 

“Bakura,” he said. 

“I don’t want to call out my own name. What’s your name?”

“I…” The Spirit paused, looking off in the distance. “I… barely remember. It was Bakura. Perhaps accented differently, but…” 

“Okay. Then Bakura, please suck me off! I really _really_ need you to” Ryou begged, hitching his hips into the air. 

Bakura’s face was red. It was both erotic and embarrassing, since Ryou assumed his own face looked similar. Bakura suckled lightly against Ryou’s tip. Ryou called out, pushing up in a desperate attempt to get deeper into Bakura’s mouth. Bakura took the hint, dropping lower. Ryou hissed as teeth brushed against his shaft. 

“Le-less teeth, please.” 

Bakura gave Ryou a questioning look. Ryou exhaled. 

“Tuck them behind your lips.”

“Yeah. Obviously.” Malik snorted. 

“You’ve never done this before either!” Bakura shouted at him. 

Malik opened his mouth to retort, but Ryou cut him off. 

“Will you two _please_ get me off before my dick explodes. I can’t wait any longer!” 

They both laughed. Malik grabbed Bakura and kissed him again in defiance of Ryou’s plea. After a moment Malik pulled away and slipped behind Bakura so he could fondle the Spirit’s balls as the Spirit dropped his head and wrapped his lips halfway down Ryou’s cock. 

Ryou moaned and raked his nails against the sheets. The Spirit’s untamed hair sprayed out in every direction. Ryou could barely catch glimpses of Malik through the white chaos. With each dip of Bakura’s head, the Spirit grew more confident until he was slamming his mouth all the way to Ryou’s base and sucking his way up. Intense, stabbing tendrils of electricity jolted through Ryou’s entire being. 

“Oh yes.” Ryou rolled his eyes back. “Oh yes, please. Oh Spirit, please. Oh _Bakura_ please. Yes, please, Bakura—please!” 

Ryou’s pleasure climbed. The cock ring slowed him down enough to make it last a few minutes, but he was still too hard up for it to work longer. A muffled grunt huffed out of Bakura’s mouth as Malik teased his clenched fist up and down Bakura’s shaft, but after the initial shock he went back to sucking Ryou out of his mind. Bakura forgot to hold back, slipping Ryou deep into his throat and moving fast. 

“Oh damn! Oh shit! Oh fuck! Oh gods!” Ryou wailed. 

His body spasmed, then shuddered, then trembled as he came hard and long before easing down from his orgasm. The Spirit swallowed, teasing Ryou’s cock with a few last tender kisses even after Ryou finished coming. 

“Well?” Malik pulled his hand away from Bakura’s cock, combing his hair. “Do you understand now?”

“Shut up, Ishtar.”

“Call me Malik.” Malik shoved Bakura down across the bed. “Surely by now we’re on a first name basis.” 

“I’m floating. This must be what Seto Kaiba feels like after he wins a card game,” Ryou spoke to the ceiling.

Malik and Bakura both laughed. Ryou chuckled a little. He hadn't meant for it to be so funny. He’d been thinking out loud more than anything, but after hearing it—it was rather hilarious. 

“When you recover, help me blow Bakura’s fucking mind.”

“Literally.” The Spirit smirked. 

“Quite literally.” Malik pinched his ribs. 

Ryou freed himself from the cock ring, passing it to Malik. 

“Give him this. He’s going to need it.” 

Malik grinned as he fastened the band around Bakura. Ryou forced his shaky limbs to crawl toward the other two. 

“I’m going to enjoy this so much,” Ryou said. 

“So will I.” Malik smirked. 

Bakura swallowed; he looked nervous. They lowered their mouths at the same time, each taking a nipple. Ryou sucked and flicked his tongue, but Malik teased Bakura’s nipple between his teeth and gave it a gentle tug. They meandered their mouths along Bakura’s chest, giggling as they raced across his skin and made him sigh. Bakura relaxed beneath their kisses, sighing, and allowing his eyes to flutter shut. 

Ryou blinked, noticing that the skin they kissed looked… darker. He grabbed Bakura’s hand, holding it as he kneaded his lips against Bakura’s pulse point. Ryou pulled away, drawing his finger around the patch of silt-colored skin. 

“Bakura? Is this what you looked like when you were alive?” Ryou showed the Spirit the darker skin. 

“How?” Bakura sat up, touching his wrist. 

“Your chest as well.” Malik gave Bakura a fiendish smile as he showed off the heart he drew against Bakura’s skin with his tongue. 

“We should stop.” Bakura pulled back his hand. “We have to stop.” 

“Do you _want_ to stop, or are you afraid of remembering what it’s like to be alive?” Malik locked his gaze onto Bakura’s eyes as he asked the question. 

“We’re here for vengeance. You want Yugi dead.” Bakura scrunched up his face, as if convincing himself more than Malik. 

Ryou looked away, not daring to even _think_ about how he felt about Bakura’s words. Malik’s eyes shifted toward Ryou and then back to Bakura. 

“I’m fully confident you’ll manage to enter the tournament and qualify for the finals in time even with our sweet little interlude here. I need to reclaim the god cards before I can extract my vengeance, and you need the Rod before you can have the power you’re after, so there’s no reason not to sit back and enjoy yourself for these last few minutes before we have to go back to our tasks.” 

“Look, it’s fading.” Ryou redrew the heart with his fingers, although he could barely see the warmer tones that denoted its presence. “If you’re worried about going back to how you were in life, it seems to be only a temporary change.” 

Bakura huffed in relief and dropped against the mattress, giving them silent permission to continue. Malik seemed perturbed by Bakura’s laissez-faire attitude. Ignoring Bakura, he pulled Ryou close, dabbing his tongue across Ryou’s lips. 

“Malik.” Ryou returned each kiss, pouring all his passion into it, still hungry for kissing despite being sexually satisfied. 

Malik dropped to Ryou’s throat, sucking and leaving red-violet splotches that would never show on his body since they were created in his soul room. Bakura snorted, and Ryou and Malik smiled at each other.

“Don’t worry. We haven't forgotten you.” Malik wiped the shine away from his lips. 

They each took one side of Bakura’s throat. Ryou kissed Bakura’s body with the same energy and zeal that he’d kissed Malik. They worked their way lower, but took their time, enjoying the desperate noises slipping out of Bakura’s mouth. 

“Do—do that kissy thing, that we did to Ryou’s dick.” Bakura squirmed, nudging his cock in the direction of their mouths. 

Malik tilted his head, but Ryou understood right away. He lowered himself down, gazing at Malik from across Bakura’s tip. Understanding gleamed behind Malik’s eyes and he wrapped his fingers around Bakura’s thick shaft. 

“You’re…thicker than me and longer than Ryou,” Malik said. 

“He’s not exactly the same as me. I think his time with Zorc Necrophades changed him,” Ryou said. 

“Hmmm… you two are much more interesting than I assumed.” Malik blew on Bakura’s cock to tease him. 

“Then you shouldn’t have underestimated us.” Ryou licked up Bakura’s cock, showing off how loudly he could make Bakura moan.

Malik dove down with him. Their tongues curled around Bakura’s cockhead. Malik plucked a quick kiss from Ryou’s lips before returning to Bakura. They lapped at Bakura like they _needed_ the taste of his flesh. Now and then one of them would draw Bakura’s balls into their mouth while the other one sucked at the tip. Then they’d roll their tongues up and down the shaft again before trading places. Bakura moaned and screamed vowels. He muttered something unintelligible and grasped at their shoulders. Malik brushed Bakura’s hand away, dropping his lips to the base of Bakura’s dick and sucking Bakura’s cock as if he were worshiping it. 

“O-oh...oh gods...oh gods...don’t stop. Ple-mmm-ah—keep...sucking.” 

Malik worked Bakura’s shaft with his lips. Ryou rolled Bakura’s balls with his tongue and teased the delicate skin above Bakura’s thigh. He bucked like a wild horse, hair scattered across his face and mouth open to suck in breaths and scream. 

“ _Ngh! Ahhhh! Ngghhh! Aaaaaa-aaah! Aaaahhhh! Holy fuck you’re making me come!”_ Bakura came with a roar. 

It would have been amazing to watch under regular circumstances—Ryou found the Spirit very attractive, but even more so as he watched Bakura’s skin darken all over as he came. Bakura sank into the mattress, glowing after his orgasm, and Ryou pressed a hand to his mouth. 

“Your eyes!” 

The red had drained away, leaving bright, glimmering opals in their place. 

“You’re…gorgeous.” Malik’s mouth dropped as he stared at Bakura’s face. 

“Idiots.” Bakura turned away, trying to shove as much of his face into the pillow as he could while laying on his back, which was only half. 

“It can’t be…” Malik gasped, reaching out and tracing the scar on Bakura’s cheek—now visible with his changed complexion. 

“What is it, Malik?” Ryou asked. 

“Nothing.” Malik pulled away, shaking his head. “I’m sure it’s nothing. I—I have to go.” 

“Go?” Ryou frowned. “Were you antagonizing Bakura when you said you’d stay and cuddle because—” Ryou glanced away. “I actually thought we could.” 

“I would.” Malik covered his hand over his mouth, as if he hadn’t wanted to say it. His eyes glimmered brightly, too many emotions struggling behind them as he whispered behind his hand. “I would, but… listen, I know Yugi’s your friend. I can feel it in your mind. I know you thought you could save your friends if you let Bakura stab you, but it didn’t work.”

“Malik? What do you mean?” Ryou felt as if ice water had been dumped into his veins. 

“I took over Jounouchi’s mind anyway, made him duel Yugi to the death.”

“What?” Tears singed Ryou’s eyes.

“Don’t worry.” Marik exhaled, exasperated. “I failed. That’s why I need you both in the tournament with me.” Malik, usually proud and god-like in his posture, deflated. “I’m sorry Ryou.”

He grabbed Ryou by the back of the head and pressed their noses together. Ryou understood, an ancient form of kissing, something less lustful and more meaningful. The sweet act made Ryou’s chest ache because he knew their time together was over. 

“I don’t…” Malik swallowed. “I don’t want things to be like this, but they are, and we can’t change our fates.” 

“Malik, don’t. Whatever's going on, we can work through it! Just stay here and—” 

“You don’t know anything!” Malik pulled away, eyes glassy. “Some pain can’t be beared! Some pain requires redress! The Pharaoh needs to be _annihilated_!”

“But Malik—” Ryou reached out for him. 

“He’s right, Ryou, let him go.” Bakura rolled onto his back again, looking at Malik with profound respect. 

His skin was fading, like a beautiful dream, all the fertile, Nile river-silt vanishing to ghastly white. The hell-fire returned to his eyes. Both his forms were beautiful, but Ryou missed the earthiness of his flesh and brightness of his eyes in his original form. 

“Thank you… for understanding.” Malik sucked on Bakura’s bottom lip, ending the kiss by pressing their noses together like he had with Ryou. 

“Okay.” Ryou sniffed, rubbing the half-formed tears from his eyes. At least his friends were safe for the time being, although he was terrified about what would happen to them during the tournament finals. “I know Yugi loves his other half, but no one gets enemies who hate them as much as you two hate the Pharaoh unless they did something to deserve it. I won’t stop you. But please, if you can spare my friends—”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Malik said. 

“Don’t bullshit me, Malik. Please respect me more than that. I’m asking you to try and spare my friends, not placate me with empty lies!” 

“Ryou.” Malik kissed him one last time, caressing Ryou’s cheek. “I wish we’d met in a different life. I would have liked it… to get coffee, and make out, and cuddle for hours.” Malik pulled away, a sad smile on his face. “But I was never meant for such a beautiful destiny.” He turned away, stopping one last time, but refusing to look at them as they spoke. “I’ll see you both in the finals.”

Malik disappeared. 

Ryou held his breath. He didn’t regret the last hour, but… his chest hurt. The Spirit pulled Ryou into his arms, petting his hair. 

“I wish your idiot friends were easy to kill, but you know they always find a way to beat the odds. Don’t cry.” 

“You’ll kill them too if you get half the chance.”

Ryou couldn’t hold it in any longer, letting his tears roll down his cheeks as the sobs shook his chest. 

“Ryou.”

“What?” Ryou tried to sound angry, but he curled his arms around Bakura, needing the comfort of his presence even as he yelled at him. 

“You’re not stupid. You know the RPG I want your help building is for a Shadow Game. But I think I can fix it to where only the Pharaoh plays this time. He’s the one I want destroyed. _If_ I can leave your friends out of it, then there’s no reason to needlessly slaughter them.” 

Ryou nodded. He knew this was the closest Bakura could get to saying he cared. He also knew that Zorc was a worse influence on Bakura than Bakura knew and _he_ would destroy everything living on earth if Bakura managed to win, but just like with Malik, Ryou would have to have faith in his friends and hope they’d win in the end. 

“Okay.” Ryou sniffed, pulling himself together. He didn’t see why they should stall any longer. “Guess you'd better take over and get some locator cards, yeah?” 

“Five more minutes won’t hurt anything,” Bakura whispered, pressing into Ryou as if he needed the closeness as much as Ryou did…

Perhaps more so.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This could really use another go over, but...here y'go (throws update in your lap and skips away)

Getting enough locator cards and finding the blimp had been annoying but not difficult. At least the graveyard duel seemed to put his host in a better mood after their last conversation with Malik. After they entered the finals and boarded the blimp, Bakura sat on a bed in his private room and examined their deck. They had a two hour break before the finals began, and Bakura relished the opportunity to face off against the Pharaoh. A knock on his door tore him away from his thoughts. Bakura scowled, wondering which one of his host's idiot friends were here to interrupt them.

_Please pretend to be me and get rid of them. I'd rather stay in my soul room than talk._

_Get rid of them, you say?_ A dark grin stretched across Bakura's borrowed face.

_You know what I mean. Don't twist my words on me. I've been more than cooperative through all this._

_Stop sulking like a lovesick fool. We’re fine without Malik._

_Bakura, please. I don’t want to talk about it._

_Whatever. I'll make them go away for you. I want to finish looking over our deck before our match, anyway._

_Thank you._

Bakura snorted at Ryou's constant manners as he opened the door with a fake smile on his face. The grin turned into a surprised look when Malik grabbed Bakura and shoved them both into the room. After shutting and locking the door behind them, Malik slammed Bakura onto the bed. Their hair flew upward and crashed around them as they landed. Malik gave Bakura a fierce kiss.

“Miss me?” Malik smirked.

 _Yes!_ Ryou confessed from the back of their mind, knowing Malik could hear him.

But deep within the Ring, the demon growled low in warning.

“No,” Bakura argued. “It's only been a few hours since—”

“Shut up.” Malik slammed their mouths together again. “I missed you, and I want you again, and I'm taking you.”

 _Please Malik, please,_ Ryou begged, desperate for the closeness they’d felt hours ago in Ryou’s soul room.

**No. You’re MINE.**

“It’s not a good time,” Bakura muttered. “I need to concentrate on the upcoming duels—”

“You’re either good enough to beat Yugi or you're not. In either case, I can help if the Pharaoh turns out to be too much for you.”

“Don't bother. I don't need help,” Bakura growled.

“We’ll see.” Malik dropped to Bakura’s neck and sucked at his pulse.

Both Bakura and Ryou moaned at the same time. Every brush of Malik’s fingers, every dab of his tongue,traveled through Ryou’s nerves and was experienced by both he and Bakura, and they both wanted Malik’s mouth to stay on their throat.

 _Are you mad?_ Malik asked Ryou through their mind link as his mouth worked across their skin.

 _Yes I’m mad._ Ryou snapped even as he squirmed against the weight of Malik’s body. _You tried to kill my friends._

_I wish I could say I was sorry._

_I wish you could too._ Ryou shut their eyes, leaving Bakura in control otherwise. _But I know you’re not._

Bakura, wasn’t sure what closing their eyes would accomplish. Malik’s talons were in their skull. They didn’t have to see him to feel his thoughts probe at their consciousness or his fingers digging wantonly into their hips. But then he realized Ryou wasn’t trying to shut Malik out, he was trying to connect with him deeper than they already were. They could catch some of Malik’s feelings, but there was a barrier, a dark cloak, almost strangling Malik, and Ryou was trying to slip past it, but something shoved them away.

Bakura jerked, feeling bitten. Ryou sent a questioning vibe—not a full thought—to Bakura’s mind, but Bakura had no earthly idea what sort of barrier was protecting Malik’s deeper emotions. The strangest part was—he was sure Malik didn’t even realize it was there. For a second, Bakura wondered if Malik was somehow connected to a demon as well, but it wasn’t the same. The creature buried in Malik still felt like a part of Malik, only feral.

“Is something wrong?” Malik pulled away.

“We… don’t have time for this…” Bakura didn’t want to stop. His body burned in a way it never could with Zorc.

“I can see inside your mind, you know.” Malik mussed Bakura’s hair. “But since you’re implying I should stop—”

“No.” Bakura fisted the material of Malik’s shirt and pulled him in for another kiss.

 _I thought so_ , Malik purred in their thoughts.

 _You’re so frustrating_ , Bakura growled. Ryou didn’t say anything, but his agreement layered in the other conflicting emotions coming from his thoughts.

They both tugged Malik on top of them and worked their fingers through Malik’s hair. Bakura and Ryou worked together to hitch their hips and grind against Malik’s body weight. Ryou _was_ upset about the possibility of his friends getting hurt, but his need to be close to Malik was a frenzy that neither he nor Bakura could control. And, by what they _could_ feel from Malik, he was as desperate as they were.

And through it all Zorc roared in Bakura’s mind.

**You’re not free to choose new lovers. You’re chattel. Only I possess you for pleasure.**

_**Fuck you!**_ Bakura screamed at the Ring, furious about the chattel line. **I’ll do what I want with this host-body!**

 _Bakura_? Ryou asked. He shouldn’t have been able to hear the dialogue between Bakura and Zorc, but apparently he sensed the conversation.

 _This is going to taste bitter once blood spills._ Bakura warned Ryou. _Remember the pain you’re setting yourself up for when that happens._

_But if we can get to the core of Malik’s pain, maybe we could help and—_

“Ryou,” Malik whispered, whipping his mouth on the back of his hand. “It won’t work.”

_Malik, I care about you. Perhaps it’s foolish, but I do. However, regardless of the feelings I’m developing for you, I’ll do everything I can to protect the others! I don’t care about the Pharaoh, but everyone else—_

“I don’t want to think about any of that right now.” Malik squeezed his head between his hands. “This may be our last truce. Let’s enjoy it, not fight about the inevitable catastrophe ahead of us.”

**Refuse to help him defeat the Pharaoh unless he gives you the information we need _first_. And DO NOT give yourself to him. **

_Bakura_? Ryou asked.

Bakura couldn’t understand how Ryou formed emotional ties so quickly, but now Ryou was trapped between his desire to love Malik, and his desire to cherish what fragile bonds he’d been able to forge with his other friends. Caught between the storm of Ryou’s love and the ocean of Zorc’s hatred and fury—Bakura couldn’t breathe. He was drowning. His vision darkened. His chest (rather Ryou’s chest) heaved as Bakura physically struggled for air, near hyperventilating.

“Bakura? Are you okay?” Malik laid a hand on Bakura’s chest, as if he could somehow push breath into his lungs.

Malik’s words from earlier echoed in his head. _Some pain can’t be beared! Some pain requires redress! The Pharaoh needs to be annihilated._

“We’re the same.” Bakura studied Malik’s face. His vision cleared, and his breathing steadied. “I don’t know what he did to you, but I understand.”

Bakura held Malik’s face, closing his eyes as they kissed. They kissed and kissed. He’d never kissed before that day, only lay still in the darkness as Necrophades made him cold. But this… _this_ … this was warm, and bright, and sending sparks of life through Bakura’s soul. The battle in Bakura’s chest ceased as all Zorc’s demands crumbled and Ryou’s emotions flooded through him until he couldn’t tell where Ryou’s yearning ended and his own began.

**NO**

Bakura grit his teeth as his chest seized up with pain again. Not a panic attack this time, but a warning from Zorc to obey **him and only him**.

“Bakura? What’s wrong now?” Malik held his shoulders to steady him. “Stop it. You’re freaking me out.”

Bakura couldn’t breathe enough to answer. He clutched at the Ring beneath his shirt as a spot of red seeped through the fabric.

 _Chest…_ Ryou whispered to Malik despite the pain coursing through them.

Malik ripped the shirt off of their chest and flinched when he saw the tines burrowed in Bakura’s flesh.

**Submit**

**No!** Bakura screamed at the darkness permeating his soul.

**I command you to!**

_**I hate you!** _

**SUBMIT TO ME**

_Malik!_ Ryou called out, begging for help without words.

Bakura snorted. What was the tombkeeper going to do? Kiss it and make it better? Bakura grit his teeth, enduring his pain the same as all the others in his existence. Malik’s voice cut through the agony as he spoke.

 _Ryou, I’m going to put a spell into your mind. Don’t forget it_.

 _I won’t!_ Ryou promised.

Malik’s finger dipped into the blood dripping from the Ring. He used it to draw on Bakura’s chest as he chanted. The force of the _heka_ punched Bakura in the gut and Zorc howled in fury.

All at once, the Ring hung limp against his body, his wounds were closed, and air rushed into his lungs. The blood still tickled as it dried on his skin, but the holes were once again knotted scars instead of open wounds. Bakura fingered each knot.

“All this time...I’ve been shackled. For thousands of years, and only now, sitting here freed, am I realizing how I was bound.”

For the first time in thousands of years, Bakura remembered the sun on his skin, and what food and beer tasted like, and how beautiful jewels flashed in the firelight when he’d sort through his stolen loot. Bakura sucked in another breath and then another still, remembering what it was like to be alive. To be himself. The King of Thieves, not some shade for Zorc to use as a puppet.

“Malik? What did you do?”

“Sealed him,” Malik said.

“How?”

“All tomb keepers learn greater seals against demons. We descended from mages. How can we protect the Pharaoh if—well, fuck all that—but you get why I was forced to learn magic and physical combat as a child.”

“This feels great!” Bakura tossed his head back and laughed.

He wrapped her arms around himself and flung himself on his back, laughing at the sky. Bakura rolled from side to side, savoring each recovered memory, and craving a glass of pomegranate wine.

 _Thank you,_ Relief bubbled up from Ryou’s consciousness. _Malik, you’re amazing!_

“I’m sorry. It’s temporary.” Malik flinched.

 _Oh, that’s...unfortunate._ Ryou sighed through his mouth, but he smiled afterward. “I still appreciate it. It’s good, to feel happy again, even for a few minutes.”

How had he never realized how weak Zorc made him until now? Bakura had thought the demon had blessed him with power, but all this time...he’d been sapping Bakura’s strength away. Bakura’s laughter faded; he shook with exhausted rage.

“I’m glad you shut that bastard up, even for a few minutes.”

“I don’t mind sharing you with Ryou, but that demon had to go.” Malik smirked.

 _Do you understand now? Can you tell the difference? He’s been draining you_ , Ryou whispered in their mind. _He’s been draining both of our energy. He's a leech feeding off our heka._

 _Why didn’t you mention it before?_ Bakura’s question was angry.

_You would have called me naive and given me some speech about the powers of a dark god granting you vengeance._

“How long before Zorc returns?” Bakura winced. He knew Ryou’s words were true. He sank into the mattress, looking up at Malik.

“The seal is supposed to last a week, but considering how strong he is… probably until midnight.”

“How often will the spell work?”

“I’d save it for emergencies.” Malik spoke to Ryou more than Bakura.

Bakura’s fists balled at his sides. He was angry. He knew the moment the spell ended he’d forget himself and go numb once again, and he couldn’t stop Zorc no matter how strong his will was.

 _I’ll figure something out_ , Ryou promised. _I’ll find a way to free your soul from him for good._

_Not everyone gets saved. The sooner you realize that—_

_I’ve already lost the most important people to me! I don’t need you talking down to me like a child! We’ll find a way to break Zorc’s hold on you! I don’t care how powerful he is!_

Ryou screamed so loud in their mind that Bakura’s lips almost formed the words with him. Malik and Bakura sat in silence. Flashes of Ryou’s mother and sister had flared into his thoughts as he’d screamed.

“We’re the same,” Malik said, echoing Bakura’s earlier words. “We’ve all lost more than we can manage, and we’ll do anything to keep from feeling that way ever again.”

“Yes,” Ryou whispered.

Without Zorc deadening Bakura’s soul, it was easier for the three of them to experience each other’s emotions through their mindlink. Malik still had a dark patch they couldn’t reach, but every other emotion was so raw it hurt to experience. A whimper escaped Bakura. He kicked his shoes and pants away.

“I want to be warm,” Bakura graped Malik’s shoulders. “I was wrong. Fuck, I was wrong. I don’t want to be numb anymore. Take me, until I scream, until my voice gives out from screaming your name. Don’t stop until I’m drenched in sweat. While I’m still myself...I want to feel everything.”

He needed Malik and Ryou’s warmth inside him. He needed Ryou’s gentle affection lapping over his soul like ocean waves against the shore. He needed Malik’s teeth sinking into the flesh of his shoulder—Ryou’s shoulder, but he’d be able to feel it, and that was more than enough for him.

Malik pulled a small bottle from his pocket before kicking off his own shoes. He tore off his pants and lay his purple, sleeveless hoodie over the back of a chair, although he kept on the black tank top on. Neither Bakura nor Ryou complained, however, as Malik crashed on top of them and smothered their mouth.

“I’m cold. It’s always so damn cold in the Ring. Make me feel warm. Malik, make me feel warm. Ryou, make me feel warm. I fucking need this!” Bakura shouted as Malik sucked at their throat once again.

Ryou controlled their eyes and left hand, Bakura operated everything else. He could see, but Ryou decided if they stared at Malik’s hair dripping from his forehead like honey, or if they admired their white thighs framing Malik’s cumin-colored skin. Ryou grabbed their cock and squeezed, sending a flush of heat through their shared body.

 _Is this want you wanted?_ Ryou asked with another stroke of his hand.

“Yes!” Bakura arched into the touch.

_Do you want this to get even hotter?_

“Yes!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make you burn.” Malik grabbed the bottle of lube and drenched his fingers with the liquid.

He worked them into Bakura and Ryou. They cried out in unison, eyes slammed shut as they adjusted to the feeling of Malik’s fingers inside them. Malik kissed the inside of their thighs as he, easing his fingers in and out. Ryou caressed their cock—for Bakura’s pleasure as much as his own. Ryou wanted to touch Bakura at the same time Malik touched him. He wanted to be active and participate instead of being an observer trapped in his own mind.

“More,” Bakura begged.

“Are you sure?” Malik asked.

 _Please_ , Ryou agreed.

Ryou drizzled the lube over both Malik’s and their cocks. Malik glided his tip in circles around their entrance, toying with Ryou and Bakura, building their already rampant anticipation. Ryou locked their gaze with Malik’s, and Malik kept eye contact as he guided himself into their body. His girth filled them, overwhelmed them.

“ _Oh god_ ,” Ryou whispered through their mouth.

“Oh fucking gods,” Bakura repeated with the same mouth.

Both times their voice had been husky and low. Malik’s stare lidded as he eased out and back in. Sparks shot up their spine. A hurricane of pleasure twisted in their stomach. Malik braced his hands on Bakura’s chest as he slipped almost all the way out and then entered until he was stuffed all the way inside of them. After a few more long, exaggerated thrusts, his hips made steady, relaxed circles as he moved.

“Bakura… Ryou…” he groaned, eyes lost and hazy and his complexion glowing from arousal.

“Malik…”

Malik wore a goofy grin, and Bakura was pretty sure he had a similar expression on Ryou’s face. He hadn’t known what to do—that first time with the demon when he’d laid still until closer to the end—but with Malik, movement came naturally. Bakura and Ryou held Malik’s hips, encouraging him to go a little faster, a little deeper. Bakura’s toes curled into the sheets. His neck curved as he rounded his back. His cheeks burned as sweat trickled down his spine. The thrusts themselves were strokes of fire, searing him from the inside outward.

“Ah! Malik!”

“Yes.” Malik lowered himself to his forearms, threading his fingers through Ryou’s hair.

 _Please, please, please, please, please_ , Ryou whined inside their mind.

A memory filtered over to them. Malik tugging at Ryou’s hair to pull him off of the bike. Malik giggled and planted a quick, clumsy kiss into their mouth before yanking at their hair.

 _Yes! Yes! Yes! Harder!_ Ryou insisted.

Malik tugged harder. His hips worked faster. Their skin slapped together each time Malik thrust. A sweet ache grew in Bakura’s loins. A heavy pressure swelled, demanding for release. Ryou teased his fingers up Bakura’s stomach.

“Please… Ryou…” He was begging again, but couldn’t bring himself to care. He would have done anything at that moment, let them do anything to him. He would have confessed all manner of sweet-nothings so they’d make him come.

 _Your words are useless_. Ryou laughed as he teased their body into a violent frenzy. _But I’ll still give you what you want, Thief King._

“ _Oh gods! Oh gods! Oh gods!”_ The pleasure consumed him, vibrating throughout a body which, at that moment, belonged equally to him and Ryou as Ryou focused on pleasuring Bakura with each flourish of his hand.

He _never made you call out like this_ did he? Ryou asked.

Bakura shook his head no. The answer was no. Zorc had made him laugh as the last of his humanity drained away, but he had no such power to make Bakura pray to him like a god. There was nothing reverent about fucking Zorc.

 _Say our names, Bakura._ Ryou whispered. Bakura could almost feel Ryou’s breath against his ear.

“Mmmm… yes. Scream for us.” Malik purred in agreement. He arched like a cobra, half-lost in his own pleasure and closing in on his own orgasm.

“Ryou… Malik… Ryou! Malik! Ryou! Malik! Ryou! M-Mal-Maaaa-aaaah!”

Ryou wrapped his fingers around Bakura’s cock and jerked hard and fast. Malik continued to slap their bodies together.

 _Ryou—hurry! You’re so fucking tight I can’t last—_ Malik groaned.

 _Malik!_ Ryou called. _Oh Bakura, Bakura, Bakura!_

_Holy shit! Oh gods this is… so… fucking…_

_Good!_ Ryou finished the thought as their body spasmed and come shot from their cock. Malik’s eyes slammed shut. He clung to their shoulders for leverage so he could drag his body back and forth, coming with them. They rode out their long, shared orgasim and breathed heavily once they finished.

 _I never knew it could feel this good. I never knew I could_ want _it this badly. Not like this. It was never anything like this._ Bakura stared at the ceiling.

 _Malik, please don’t run off this time._ Ryou clutched at Malik’s shoulder. A shot of pain from Malik’s mind made Ryou’s hand recoil.

 _I’m sorry!_ Ryou apologized, although he wasn’t sure what he’d done wrong.

Anger and sorrow shuddered through Malik. The darkness in his mind sprang to life, threatening to swallow all of them. Bakura reached up, stroking Malik’s hair. Malik calmed. The darkness inside him receded, and Malik lay like dead weight on their chest.

 _Are you okay?_ Ryou asked.

_I’ll be okay._

_Are you hurt? What happened—_

_Hold me until it’s time for your duel. I’m sorry about last time. I had to make sure we got everything ready for this tournament._ Malik thought the words, avoiding Ryou’s other questions.

 _Malik? What did the Pharaoh do to you?_ Ryou asked.

 _Enough_ , Malik answered.

_Is the Pharaoh really… that bad?_

_Yes_ , Malik answered.

_Is Yugi okay? With someone like that possessing him?_

_Don’t worry_ , Bakura’s own answer was bitter. _Even vipers care for their own. He won’t hurt Yugi or the rest._

_That’s a relief, but… I hope you find a way to get rid of him. I don’t like that thought of someone like that around Yugi._

A wave of shame from Malik lapped at the edges of their thoughts. It was obvious that he had no intention of sparing Yugi.

_Malik, listen—_

_To become the next king, one must wield all the god cards. It’ll either be Bakura or myself that claims Slifer._

_You don’t understand. You guys can’t beat Yugi. Bakura, you’ve_ seen _how it is with him. He won’t lose. You’re both wasting your time._

 _The gods blessed him with luck, but luck can’t save him forever._ Bakura shook his head.

They were quiet for a long time. They clung to each other. None of them could bring themselves to let go. They needed the comfort of each other. _Needed it_ , but Bakura could feel Ryou’s mind whirring like an overworked fan trying to cool a computer processor.

 _Why do you even care?_ Malik asked.

_Because they’re my friends._

_That’s ridiculous._ Malik thought the words, but he also remembered the way Jounouchi had taken on two guys by himself when they tried to attack Ryou near the pier.

 _Fine_. Malik exhaled a breath with a _tch_ noise despite thinking his words instead of saying them. _I’ll try to think of something. That’s not a promise, or a guarantee, but I’ll at least keep it in mind—for you. Because...because you’re important to me, all right?_

Ryou took control of his body so he could grab Malik and kiss him. Bakura didn’t protest. In fact, it was somewhat of a relief to take the backseat for a bit. He was furious at Zorc for corrupting him, but he was more furious at himself for agreeing to it. The Items were a compass of the soul, and Bakura’s cause had been _just_ , so he didn’t understand how the power of the Ring had enslaved him. It wasn’t _right_.

Malik caressed the edges of Bakura’s mind, soothing him and pulling him away from his thoughts. Bakura shelved his musings, unsure of how much crossed between them. Instead, Bakura sank into the moment, noting their strange connection through their mental link, enjoying Malik’s arms wrapped around their body. The speaker gave a ten minute warning before the next duel. Malik winced.

“Don’t worry. Slifer is as good as yours.” Bakura stretched, pretending as if he wasn’t as devastated as the rest of them for having to break their embrace. “We’ll be back in here celebrating before you can say _dead fucking Pharaoh_.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things have gotten so overwhelming that even I had to tap out of creative work for a while there. 
> 
> For those reading as a break from the world, I hope you like this chapter. There's still some direct-manga dialogue, but this is where the canon divergence starts to really kick in. Also, we get a little hint of deathshipping, as a treat <3

“I win, Bakura!” Yugi—though it wasn’t Yugi—pointed from across the blimp as their card game drew to its inevitable conclusion. 

“ _Whoo-hoo!_ Jounouchi whistled. “Finish him, Yugi! Turn Bakura back to normal with a shot from god!” 

_How is that supposed to turn me back to normal?_ Ryou did the subconscious equivalent of a double facepalm as he watched the game from the back of his own mind. 

_Your friends are fucking idiots!_ Bakura mentally shouted. His stress from his loss vibrated through their link. 

_Thank you, Bakura,_ the third voice in Ryou’s mind was Malik’s. Ryou could imagine Malik’s smirk by the tone of his voice. _Your defeat will serve my purposes…_ our _purposes._

 _What?_ Bakura grit his teeth, as confused as Ryou for once. 

“Here I go, Bakura!” The Pharaoh wearing Yugi’s body shouted. “Slifer The Sky Dragon! Atta—”

A tall man carrying a counterfeit Rod and wearing a Ghoul clock walked beside Yugi. The Pharaoh’s lips curled in a snarl as he watched the other man draw close. He glared in return, unintimidated by the Pharaoh’s reaction. 

“Listen carefully, Yugi, that boy is being controlled by my Millennium Rod.”

 _Oh no._ Ryou groaned from the back of his mind. 

“You’re the one who brainwashed Bakura?” The Pharaoh shouted. 

“I’ll show you proof. I’ll release his real personality…” 

_No. No. No. No. I don’t want to lie to my friends anymore!_

_But Ryou._ Malik’s voice adopted a soothing tone. _If you convince him to forfeit, I’ll acquire Slifer without killing him._

_Really? You’re really going to put me in a situation like this, Malik?_

_It’s the only thing I can think of to avoid bloodshed. Only for you would I ever_ compromise my plans. _You don’t have to take this opportunity, but if I fight him, I’m not allowing him to walk away._

 _Your call,_ Bakura said. 

_Fine! I'll play along!_

Ryou took control, dropping to his knees. “Agh! My arm… it hurts. It hurts, ugh…” 

Ryou heard the others scream his name on the sidelines. He felt bad for deceiving them—again—but hoped he was doing the right thing long-term by following Malik’s plan. 

_Eh, think of it as roleplaying,_ Bakura offered as encouragement. 

_Malik’s not a very good DM._ Ryou snorted in his own thoughts. 

“Yugi? Where am I? Why am I…” 

_Lost memory again? Don’t you have any other acts?_ Malik critiqued. 

_Not on the spot! I wasn’t exactly part of this plan, thank you._

_It’s not my fault Bakura lost_ , Malik’s voice was the equivalent to a grin. _I had to think on the spot myself._

“As you can see, that boy is badly wounded.” The false Malik spoke. “An attack from the Sky Dragon will grant you victory… but the _shock_ could very well take the boy’s _life_. Are you willing to do that?”

“You’re using Bakura’s life as a shield? Why, you filthy fuck!” The Pharaoh screamed. 

_Did baldy just make a pun while delivering an evil speech? This guy is cool as fuck!_ Bakura cackled in the back of their mind. 

_Keh, keh,_ Malik’s mental laughter echoed in their own mind. _Rishid’s a good actor._

_Stop laughing you two. I’m trying to look weak and pathetic. Laughing won’t help me._

“That’s not fair!” Jounouchi screamed. 

“Bakura! Wake up!” Honda shouted at the same time. 

_Wake up? You’re not even sleeping._ Bakura internally rolled his eyes. 

_He'd better forfeit. Malik_ spoke through their mental link. _If Yugi hesitates on this last turn all five letters will appear on the Ouija board and he’ll die._

“You have 30 seconds left!” The referee called out. 

“Yugi… help me,” Ryou begged.

 _Shit!_ Ryou swore. Desperate to save his friend no matter what. Ryou reached out to Yugi, the plea in his voice sincere. 

“Yugi… it really hurts.” Ryou gasped, clutching his arm in pain. “Yugi, please.”

But it wasn't Yugi staring back at him. It was the Pharaoh. Ryou called out Yugi's name again, praying that Yugi would take over, or at least convince his other half to quit the game, but as the seconds dragged past, the dread in Ryou's chest grew. 

“Ten seconds!” 

Everyone was shouting now. Seto was demanding Yugi attack. The others screamed to cancel the game. The Pharaoh stood frozen, perhaps not cruel enough to attack, but too proud to forfeit. Ryou’s breath grew shallow. He clutched his arm, hyperventilating not because he feared for himself, but because he feared for his friend. 

“Dammit...Yugi... _please!_ ” 

_So that’s your game, Malik. You’ve tied Yugi’s hands,_ the spirit spoke as the last seconds wound down. 

_As per our agreement…_

“ _Nnn… ngh_ …”Ryou gasped, unable to breath. 

He was about to watch his friend die. He’d gambled with Yugi’s life, trying to straddle the fence between his friends and lovers, and now Yugi’s blood would be on his hands. Ryou’s vision darkened as panic took over him; however, Through his panic, he could hear the spirit of the Ring growling.

_But still…_

The spirit, Bakura, swept control away from Ryou, tucking Ryou safely in the back of their mind. 

_Even I have ways I like to win and ways I hate to win!_

_Bakura?_ Ryou asked. 

_What are you doing?_ Malik demanded. 

_Stay out of this, Malik!_

The last few seconds blurred. Bakura goaded the Pharaoh into attacking, cackling hysterically as the blast struck them hard enough to rip the Ring off of their neck. There was a horrible feeling of separation—of _loneliness—_ as the spirit who’d saved Ryou was ripped away from him. That hurt more than the pain searing through his body as the god, Slifer, attacked. 

Ryou hit the floor. The air knocked out of him. His fingers twitched. He used every ounce of will to reach for the Ring, but his body wouldn’t move. 

“Hang in there, Bakura!” The Pharaoh knelt beside Ryou. 

“Yu… yu… yu…” Ryou was screaming, screaming for Yugi to take back control. To throw the Puzzle over the blimp.

As long as he wore it he’d be in danger. If nothing else, his duel proved that vengeance was more important for Malik than their budding feelings toward each other. Ironically, it was only because Malik used magic to seal the demon away from the spirit’s soul that Bakura made the decision to side with Ryou at the last second and sacrifice themselves instead of Yugi. Ryou wanted to explain all of this, but couldn't so much as form Yugi’s name. 

They rushed Ryou to a room, re-bandaged his arm. A Kaiba Corp medical employee held Ryou’s mouth open and forced pain meds into his mouth. Ryou spit them out and turned his head. 

“No—”

“Ryou, it’s medicine.” Anzu tried to calm him. 

“Yeah, Ryou. Take it,” Honda encouraged. 

Ryou thrashed doing everything he could to keep the pills from going into his mouth, but between the nurse and his friends, they managed to force them down him. Ryou sputtered and struggled to sit, to demand they give him back the Ring. Zorc was in the Ring which meant Bakura was alone with a demon he had defied. Ryou needed to put it on so the seal Malik drew on Ryou’s chest could protect Bakura both from Zorc’s influence, but Ryou couldn’t move… and his vision cut as his eyes closed, asleep before his thoughts could register what was happening to him…

***

Bakura shook in the frozen black hellscape around him. His fingers twitched. The urge to wrap his arms around his body was strong, but he knew he couldn’t show weakness, so he stood in place, shivering. Through the swirls of black, a pair of red eyes appeared, rushing toward Bakura. Bakura crashed onto his back as Zorc slammed him into the darkness. 

**You’re Mine _._**

“Not anymore,” Bakura said. 

**Mine!**

“What happened to my family after I died?” Bakura screamed up at the crimson eyes. “What happened to them! I gave you my power! What did you do with it? What did you do to them?”

**If you want to know. Open the door.**

“Fuck you! If you want me to cooperate then you fucking tell me—”

 **Objects. Don’t. Make. Negotiations.** Zorc’s hand wrapped around Bakura’s throat.

Bakura lay still and silent. He could do nothing. Zorc leaned closer; his breath ice against Bakura’s face. 

**You're Mine.**

Bakura shut his eyes. He’d lost all sense of hope thousands of years ago, so he didn’t hope to be rescued, merely accepted the moment and swore to himself that this, like everything else in his existence, he would survive.

**It’s time to remind you of your place, Thief...**

A force swept Bakura away before Zorc could finish his speech. Bakura jerked his eyes open and he saw Anzu looming above him. No… not Anzu. It was her body, but Malik’s presence emanated from within it. 

“Malik…”

“Hello, Bakura.” 

“You—” _saved me_ “— brought the Ring back to Ryou?” 

“Help me, Bakura.” Anzu’s face crumpled. “Help me.” 

She crashed against his chest, weeping, but it was Malik’s voice reaching out through their thoughts. 

_It was my fault. Gods, everything was my fault. Rishid was defeated, and the moment he lost consciousness something dark took over. Bakura, he'll kill my brother. Help me._

Images bombarded Bakura’s thoughts. Memories. A dominating father. Children growing up in shadows. The father torturing Rishid and blaming Malik for not being obedient enough. Blood. The father walking toward Malik with a knife and— 

Suddenly everything shifted. Malik stared at his own blood soaked hands. The father who’d been walking toward him was behind him, tied to a column and skinned alive. 

_Don’t look_.

Rishid’s voice. Arms around Malik. Isis’s voice fitting over the scattered, disjointed memories explaining how Malik’s darker half took over and murdered his own father. 

_It’s my fault. I was so angry after my initiation. I was in so much pain. I branched into two. And now he won’t stop until he destroys everything._

_Initiation?_ Bakura asked through their mind link. 

More memories. _**Worse memories.**_ A tenth birthday. Strapped to a table. _**Carved**_. 

Ryou wept in the back of their mind. 

Bakura threaded his fingers with Anzu's. He nodded, understanding Malik’s pain in a way. Bakura couldn’t remember his father, but losing family, being a child broken through tragedy. He knew that pain. He understood. Anzu’s eyes rounded in surprise at Bakura’s gesture, and then her expression softened.

“Let's go. I’ll make sure your other half doesn’t kill your brother. Get out of that body, though. She annoys me.” 

Anzu collapsed into the chair beside the bed, her stare blank. The wavy image of Malik stood beside her.

“Better?”

“At least until we get your body back,” Bakura purred.

“Oh? And what will you do with my body once it's mine again?” Malik lidded his gaze, pushing the memories of the past away.

“Anything you want.” Bakura stepped closer and parted his lips.

“You're not holding back anymore,” Malik whispered, brushing their lips together in his ghost form.

“I don’t want to hold back anymore.” Bakura deepened their kiss, clinging to Malik, desperate to taste him while he was still free to do so.

 _But after Zorc takes over I’ll have no choice._ Bakura finished his sentence in his thoughts, his mouth consumed with Malik's. _He was not happy while I was in the Ring. We need to save your brother and get you as far away from me as you can because It IS NOT safe to stay._

 _I'm not afraid of Zorc,_ Malik replied. 

_Malik, let me save you tonight. Then forget about us._ Bakura squeezed Malik’s shoulders, his hair hanging in front of his face. _Dammit, listen to what I’m saying and don’t argue._

 _Ryou?_ Malik asked.

Ryou was silent for a moment as he'd been during the entire conversation though his emotions floated to Bakura like fragments of a dream.

 _How often can I use the spell, Malik?_ Ryou asked.

_Depends on your strength and your will, but the more you use it, the shorter it'll bind him._

_I'm sorry, Malik, but Bakura is right. As soon as we get your body back, please run away._

“I'm not abandoning you!” Malik screamed instead of thought.

_Please. It's going to take all my cunning to navigate around the demon while thinking of a plan for Bakura and trying to protect my friends. I can't worry about you as well. I can't, Malik. You're already too precious to me, and Zorc would use that against me._

_Ryou—_

_Once we protect Rishid and return your body to you, give Bakura what he needs to open the doorway to the other side and get as far away from us as you can. I promise I'll keep in contact whenever it's safe. We'll save Bakura together, but we have to be smart about this._

Bakura snorted at the thought of being saved. They'd never felt Zorc's cold or seen his eyes glowing in the blackest pits of the Shadows. There was no being saved from that. It was corruption beyond grace, but he didn't argue because he wanted Malik to listen to Ryou.

 _We'll talk afterward. Right now we don't have time._ Malik led them out of the room. They walked through the silent halls. Their footsteps echoed around them. 

_I love this. It’s like a ghost movie._ Ryou beamed as their shadows shifted against the floor with them. 

“Pffff, yeah, Malik’s practically a ghost.” Bakura snorted. 

_Fuck you_ , Malik said. 

_I meant the atmosphere!_ Ryou sent an apologetic wave through their mind link. 

_You’re fine. It’s Bakura who deserves a kick in the shin. Maybe when I get my body back I’ll give him one._

_Is that the thanks we’re getting for helping you?_ Bakura asked. 

_No, Ryou’s getting a kiss._ Malik smirked. 

Ryou blushed. The heat of his emotions rose to Bakura’s cheeks as well. Bakura scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. 

_Don’t worry. I might give you a kiss after I kick you in the shin._ Malik winked. 

Bakura’s blush deepened, and he couldn’t blame Ryou for all of it. He quickened his pace. They reached Rishid’s room and Malik leaned over Rishid’s sleeping face. He sighed, weary, and spoke. 

“Dammit...I’ve fucked up. This entire tragedy is because of me. I wanted freedom from the darkness so much I ran blindly into it. And through it all, you ran right beside me so I wouldn’t have to go through it alone, and this is what happened to you. Because of me.” Malik shut his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Brother. I’m so sorry.” 

“Eh, he’s fine.” Bakura leaned against the wall, half disappearing into the shadows. “Let him sleep. We’re about to have other problems.” 

_You’re right_. Malik shook his head.

He vanished from sight and sat beside Ryou in Ryou’s soul room. Ryou rested his hand on Malik’s thigh. Slowly, he tucked a thread of golden hair behind Malik’s ear and kissed his forehead. Malik frowned, lifting his gaze to Ryou.

“I owe you an apology as well. You didn’t deserve to get dragged into this,” Malik said. 

“I’ve been a part of this from the moment I put on the Ring, but despite everything that’s happened, I’m glad because I’ve met you and Bakura.” 

“I’m…” Malik folded his hands into his lap. “I’m done. I learned the truth about my father from Isis. The Pharaoh wasn’t responsible for my father’s death as I originally thought, and although my family is still bound in servitude to him, I’m not going to hurt your friends ever again.” Malik rested his head on Ryou’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.” 

“Malik.” Ryou flung his arms around Malik and smashed their mouths together. Tears welled into the corners of his eyes. He pulled away and dabbed at them with the back of his wrist. “Focus on the future, all right?”

“How do you stay so positive?” Malik asked. 

_Stupidity_ Bakura quipped in, able to hear and feel their conversation through their mind link. 

_I know you don’t believe me when I say I’m going to save you, Bakura, but I will—we will, right Malik?_

_Yes_. Malik nodded his head. He held Ryou’s hands. “Um...there’s something I wanted to ask you—both of you.” 

“What is it?” Ryou tilted his head, smiling because of the nervousness radiating from Malik. 

“Well…” 

With Malik’s darker half now controlling his body instead of shielding his mind, Malik’s emotions bleed through their connection. Ryou caught a flash of what Malik was thinking before he said anything. Ryou’s breath hitched, but he waited for Malik to finish speaking. 

“Maybe, after Battle City, and after we figure out what to do with Zorc—I know it won’t be any time soon, but uh—want to get some coffee and maybe take a walk through a park? I’d like to be outside, with you two.” 

“Malik!” Ryou tackled him onto the bed, smothering his face with kisses until Malik was breathless with laughter. “Of course we want to go!” 

_Idiots. You’re both idiots! Stop fooling around while you’re making me do all the work out here,_ Bakura grumbled. 

_All the work of standing against the wall?_ Malik laughed as he held Ryou’s shoulders. 

_I’m keeping watch_. Bakura insisted. 

_Okay, okay, you’re right_. Malik sat up, kissing Ryou in return, but standing to break them apart. _But I didn’t know when I’d get another chance to ask. And hey, maybe it’ll help you later on, if you have something to look forward to once this is all over._

In the medical room with Malik’s brother, Bakura hugged himself and stared at the floor. Something to look forward to...only vengeance had ever filled that hole inside of Bakura. He’d never even considered anything else in his future. As he pondered, Ryou and Malik fed off of each other’s daydreams. Images of them holding hands in the sunlight bombarded Bakura’s own thoughts. It...surprised him how in both of their visions, sometimes it was Ryou and sometimes it was Bakura in control of Ryou’s body. A smile stole across Bakura’s face as he watched the thoughts in their minds, but a shadow cut through the rectangle of light spilling into Rishid’s room from the hallway, and Bakura’s body tensed. 

_It’s time._ Bakura said. 

100 different date scenarios scattered and in their place only dread, guilt, and anger from Malik remained. Malik’s body walked into the room with the Rod in his hand. Even without Zorc, the flash of gold caught Bakura’s eye and he coveted the Item. 

“Rishid, the darkness of death has come for you…” Malik raised his arm to strike. “Die.”

Malik’s other self paused, catching Bakura’s shadow out of the corner of his eye. Bakura chuckled low in his throat. 

“Who’s there?” The other asked. 

To answer, Bakura jangled his Ring as if it were a tambourine. The tines clinked together. Malik watched in morbid fascination as his own body moved and spoke. The only hint it wasn’t Malik were subtle language choices and the fact that Malik would never allow his hair to get into such a state of disarray. 

Ryou touched Malik’s shoulder. “Go. Save your brother.” 

Malik nodded and appeared beside Bakura once again. Bakura dropped his hand on Malik’s shoulder. He didn’t realize, until it was too late, how he mimicked Ryou’s supportive gesture. 

“I brought a friend.”Bakura spoke to Malik’s body, but he stared at Malik’s spirit. “Recognize him? This is your other half.”

“I won’t let you kill Rishid!” Malik screamed. 

“Tch.” His other self snorted. He held up the Rod. The gold glittered from the scarce light entering the room. “Are you sure you’ve made your alliances with the right version of myself? You need the Rod, but he doesn’t have it.” 

Malik’s breath hitched. He realized the disadvantage he was in. 

“From what I’ve been able to glean from Malik, I need the information etched into your back as well.” Bakura smirked.

“You are correct. So…? Perhaps _we_ can make a deal?” 

“Oh sure we can.” Bakura flicked Ryou’s white hair out of their face. 

“Go on…” he purred. 

Malik and Ryou stayed quiet, but their tension pulled against their bond. Bakura did the emotional equivalent of waving their concern away with a gesture. He addressed Malik’s other self. 

“Here’s the deal: you step away from Baldy, give me the Rod, and return control of that pretty body of yours back to its rightful owner, and then I won’t have to kick your ass in a Shadow Game.” 

“I shouldn’t have expected anything less from you! You’re a fool.” Malik’s other self tossed his head back and cackled. He held his stomach, doubled over, lidded his eyes, and licked his lips. “We could have drank the blood of our foes from their skulls; it’s too bad Malik’s made you as weak as he is.” 

“Weak, am I?” Bakura laughed. “Let’s see how weak I am. You know there’s only one way to settle this.” 

“Yes,” Malik’s alter ego hissed. “Those chosen by the Items are destined to face each other in a Dark Game.” 

“Well? Let’s take a romantic, moonlit stroll topside, shall we?” 

“After you.” Malik’s other half gestured with a sweep of his arm. 

“No thanks. I see you’ve unsheathed the blade hidden inside the Rod. I’d rather not present my unguarded back to you.” Bakura snorted. 

“I see no reason to rush things.” The alter slipped his knife back into the gold. “I want to kill you slowly during our game.” 

With a flutter of his cloak, Malik’s body turned and led the way to the top of the blimp. Bakura shuffled his deck, mind preoccupied with strategies. 

“You’re at a disadvantage.” Bakura smirked. “Since Malik’s on my side. I already know your entire deck.” 

“Half his deck was full of sentimental nonsense. I got rid of those and replaced them with traps and spells more suited for Ra.” 

“ _You asshole! Rishid gave me those cards! You better not have lost a single one!”_

“You’re as bad as Yugi.” Bakura rolled his eyes. 

_I think it’s awesome that he kept his brother’s cards._ Ryou quipped from the back of their shared consciousness. 

“Will everyone shut up and play the damn game?” Bakura tugged at his white hair. 

“As you wish.” Malik’s other half bowed. The wind blew his cloak. His hair scattered to one side like golden flames. “Here are the rules: whoever loses, dies. That covers everything, yes?”

“Yes.” A grin stretched across Bakura’s face. “Bring it on!” 

“Very well.” Malik’s darkness snickered. “A Shadow Game where the loser—you—is obliterated. I hope you’re prepared to meet the darkness.” 

“Say what you want before the darkness fills your mouth— _ha ha ha_!” Bakura cackled. 

_You would know all about that from experience, wouldn’t you?_ Ryou asked in a sweet tone as if unaware about how vulgar his words were. 

_I liked it better when we didn’t speak to each other_. Bakura scowled. 

“Wait!” Malik stepped closer to his other half, ignoring Bakura and Ryou’s banter. 

“What do _you_ want?” Malik's double narrowed his eyes at Malik. 

“Are you...did I really create you?” Malik frowned as he studied his own body, alive and moving with a different personality controlling it. 

“Anger...Hatred…” His mirror image thudded his fist against his chest. “Your darkest desires wove together and created a nest inside your heart, and out of that nest hatched _me_. Rishid managed to seal me away, but even suppressed as I was, I still managed to to help you.” 

“Help me?” Malik barked. “How can you call anything you did _helping_?” 

“I protected you! From the pain of the initiation! From the guilt!” Malik’s other self slammed his cards into his duel disk, preparing for their Shadow Game even as he screamed at Malik. 

“You _killed my father!_ ” 

“Oi! Oi!” Malik’s other half interrupted. “You and I are two minds in one body, so don’t talk like you weren’t involved just because I was the conscious one at the time. _We killed father_.” 

“You’re...right.” Malik clenched his jaw and fist. “But today I atone. For killing father, for putting my siblings through hell. I’ll atone for it all by defeating you, and in turn allowing the Shadows to destroy me.” 

_Wait, what?_ Ryou gasped when the stakes of their Shadow Game sank into his mind. 

“This wasn’t the deal,” Bakura said. “You have to give me the Rod and the secrets on your back after we win.” 

“The Rod will be ownerless after I disappear. As for my back, Rishid can draw the symbols and you—”

“No!” Bakura shrieked, eyes wide and panic-stricken. 

“Bakura. This is a Shadow Game to the death. What did you think would happen?” 

“ _He_ dies and _you_ reclaim your body.” 

Malik’s other half tossed his head back and laughed into the black, star-strewn sky. “I’m afraid not! This game destroys mind, body, and soul!” He winked. “Don’t worry, your soul is harbored in the Ring, yeah? You should be fine—out of a vessel though, but you can find another one of those walking around, I’m sure.” 

“Malik!” Bakura grabbed Malik’s arms. 

“It’s the only way, Bakura. To keep you and Ryou from losing, to pay for my sins, to protect my family. I have to die.” 

“You asked us on a date!” Bakura twisted Malik’s spirit around to face him. “Were you lying? You said it was something to look forward to! Don’t you dare! Don’t you fucking dare rip me from Zorc after thousands of years and then _throw yourself away like you don’t matter_!” 

“Bakura…” Malik cupped Bakura’s face. “Thank you. When I had no one else to turn to, you stood by me. And thank you, Ryou. For a few, beautiful moments you allowed me to be more than a tomb keeper. You helped me feel like a normal teenager. Sorry for skipping out on that cup of coffee...I really wanted to go.” 

_Bakura,_ Ryou whispered, _I’m taking the body. You will not stop me; this is not negotiable._

***

Ryou ripped control of himself before Bakura could register his words. He didn’t give Bakura, nor Malik, time to react. Instead, he marched to Malik’s other half, flung his arms around Malik’s body, and buried his face in Malik’s chest. He squeezed as hard as he could. 

“I love you,” he said. 

“What the fuck?” Malik’s alter stiffened in Ryou’s grip. “Are you the vessel? What are you doing? Don't touch me. I should fucking stab you for your impertinence.” 

“You’re a branch of Malik.” Ryou squeezed him more firmly, careful not to hurt his back but persistent in his affection. “You’re part of him, and I love him, so I love you. I love you, Malik. I love you. Even the broken parts. Do you understand? We can work through it. This Shadow Game, trying to punish yourself, none of that will help. Even if living means you’ll fuck up again in the future—you have to live. All of you. I refuse to lose you. It’s going to take all of us to save Bakura.” He cupped Malik’s face. The alter stared at Ryou with rounded eyes. “You’re the part of Malik that wants to survive, so do your job and help keep him safe. There’s something far more dangerous to him than you on this blimp.” 

“Who could be more dangerous than me?” Malik’s other half snorted. 

“Me.” A tear rolled down Ryou’s cheek. “Very soon, at midnight,Zorc is going to take over my body, and he wants you dead. We need you off this blimp before then, and we can’t do that if we waste our time fighting each other. _Please_. Give him control of your body again and work with him to escape.” 

“But I’ll be sealed again.” Malik’s other heart jerked out of Ryou’s arms. 

“No.” Malik rushed to stand next to Ryou. The wind blew through his ethereal form, leaving his hair slack around his shoulders despite it blowing Ryou’s and the other Malik’s hair around their faces. “I’ve accepted my feelings...I don’t know how to handle them. I don’t know exactly what to do with you, but I’m not going to deny your existence anymore.” 

“ _Heh_ , you fucking bastards.” Malik’s other half deflated. The tension melted from his body. “I was really looking forward to frying you all with the flames of Ra.” 

“So you’ve decided to help Malik escape the blimp with your siblings instead?” Ryou asked. 

“I...guess I have to. It’s what I was created for. To protect him.” 

“You don't have to. It’s your choice” Malik rested his hand on his other self’s shoulder. “But I’m asking for us to try and work together.”

“Yeah, yeah. I guess I’ll help you out _again_.” A smirk tugged at the corner of the other Malik’s mouth.

“Thank you!” Ryou flung himself around the other again, kissing him. Malik’s spirit began to fade beside them, and the alter’s hair was wild from the wind only. 

“Idiot.” Malik’s other self combed his trembling fingers through Ryou’s hair. “I can see how he’s fallen in love with you…” 

_Thank you, Ryou_ , they both thought at once before they collapsed in Ryou’s arms. Ryou dropped to the floor with them, unable to support their weight. He shook them, shouting their name. 

“Malik! Malik!” 

“He’s fine.” Bakura spoke through Ryou’s mouth, slipping into control once more. He smoothed his hand over Malik’s face until Malik’s eyes fluttered open. 

“Bakura?” 

“How could you tell?” 

“Your nose crinkles when you’re happy.” 

“Shut up!” Bakura turned away. 

“It’s adorable, and I could stare at you all night.” Malik grinned. 

“We don’t have time. Can you stand?” 

Malik nodded, and Bakura helped him to his feet. They stared at each other for a long time. The wind tore at their hair. Malik broke first—he grabbed Bakura by the back of the head, pulled him close, and slammed their mouths together. It was a hard, desperate, rueful kiss. Bakura exhaled when they broke apart. 

“Yeah...it’s time for you to go.” 

“I’m sorry.” Malik shook his head. “I wish I had a stronger spell—”

“You’ve been apologizing an awful lot tonight. It’s getting on my nerves so quit it.” Bakura knotted their hands together and tugged Malik below deck. “We’d better find your sister first. She can help us move Baldy.” 

“It doesn’t feel right, leaving you like this.” Malik resisted enough to slow their pace. 

“None of that,” Bakura interrupted before Malik could say more. “I can feel your seal weakening, and…”

Bakura froze, swallowing. 

_You’re afraid_. Malik said through their mind link. 

_I’m not a fool_. Bakura turned away. _There will be consequences for my defiance._

Ryou didn’t say anything. Even his thoughts were vague in his own consciousness. He kept staring at Malik. Every thread of Ryou’s essence wanted to keep Malik close, but he, too, felt Zorc tearing at the magical seal. Necrophades was livid. Neither Ryou nor Bakura would be able to hold out. Malik had to get far, far away from them so they didn’t hurt him. 

“Wait.” This time, Malik did stop them. He ripped both of his shirts up over his head. 

“Um…” Bakura’s eyes dilated as his gaze swept over Malik’s chest. “You look great, but now’s not the time.” 

“Fool.” Malik flushed. “Pay attention. I was supposed to show this to the Pharaoh, but I’m choosing to show you instead.” Malik turned around. 

A nervous tic fluttered at the corner of Bakura’s eye as he saw the scars he remembered from when they shared memories with Malik. The carvings were far deeper than they needed to be for scarification. Some areas healed in lumps or twisted around the boarders. Ryou wept at the sight of them, but the tears stayed inside their mind, Bakura kept them back. 

“Bakura?” 

“Hmm?” Bakura grunted, speechless. 

“Are you... _were_ you...the Thief King?” 

Inside their mind, Ryou perked up. 

_Thief King_? 

_He was sort of the Boogie Man when I was growing up_. Malik projected his thoughts, aiming them at Ryou. _A thief who challenged the entire royal court by himself. He had a specific scar beneath his eye._

Ryou remembered how after Bakura’s skin darkened in Ryou’s soul room, and how the beautiful tone revealed a scar on his cheek. 

_Boogie Man was I? Did they tell you cautionary tales to frighten you into saying your prayers at night?_ Bakura smirked. 

“I prayed to you more often than to the gods,” Malik spoke out loud. “Guess it worked out to my advantage, since you’ve helped me more than the gods did.” 

Bakura gave an amused snort, but even as he did, he clutched the Ring. The pressure from the weakening spell stabbed into their head and the pain drained the strength from their limbs. 

“Malik, we don’t have time.”

“I know.” Malik shut his eyes, back still to Bakura. “By the gods shall you know him, for it is he in whom the Pharaoh’s soul resides. In the future one will come who will wield the stone slabs of the three gods.”

“I love it when you talk dirty to me.” Bakura reached out, brushing Malik’s hair back into place, although it covered the top of the scar Malik was displaying. 

“That’s what the hieroglyphs on my back say. Winning the god cards will be proof of the return of the Pharaoh. I think we both know who was going to end up with Ra had my alternate personality finished out the tournament.” Malik brushed his hair out of the way again. “I need you to take a picture of my back and text it to Yugi. I might not be trying to kill him anymore, but I don’t want to expose myself to him like this. The picture will suffice.”

“Nah, don’t even show him a picture. He can go fuck himself—Ryou, what the hell?” Bakura growled as his left hand grabbed their cell phone and snapped a close up of Malik’s back. 

_What’s better? For us to do as Malik asks, or for him to waste time finding Yugi and showing him in person because you didn’t want to cooperate?_ Ryou ripped control of his other hand to send the text with the words Malik said about wielding the three gods.

“Doesn’t matter. He doesn’t have Ra,” Bakura grumbled. 

“He will,” Malik said.

“What do you mean?” Bakura narrowed his stare. 

Malik pressed a kiss into their mouth. He was hiding something, always better at blocking the mind link than either Ryou or Bakura could. 

“I love you, and I hope this is the last time I have to say I’m sorry—”

Bakura’s eyes rounded as a flash of Malik’s intentions slipped through his barrier. 

“Malik, don’t!” 

“This is the best I can do.” Malik held up Rod; Bakura and Ryou collapsed. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was like "why the hell is this chapter taking me so long to proof read???" it's b/c it's close to 6k, so I don't feel as bad now lol.

_Tsk, tsk_. _Deceiving and betraying the ones you love. You haven’t changed at all_. 

The voice was Malik’s, but it was not Malik’s. Nonetheless, he answered himself. 

_I’m giving Ryou a chance._

Malik knelt and brushed the hair out of Bakura’s face before stealing the Ring from around his neck. It was harder to see the transition from Bakura to Ryou when they were sleeping, but Malik could tell the difference. Malik used the powers of the Rod to project himself into Ryou’s soul room. Ryou lay unconscious. Malik wrote down his phone number on a piece of paper and slipped it beneath Ryou’s pillow. Placing a kiss on Ryou’s forehead, Malik whispered. 

“Without the Ring, you could run away from all this, you know. Let Yugi deal with it. You won’t though; I know you.” Malik sighed. “But at least I’ve bought you some time to think about what to do before you inevitably steal the Ring back and make a deal with the devil.” 

Malik returned to the physical world, slipped his shirts over his head, and carried both the Ring and the Rod to Yugi’s room. He banged on the door for an entire minute before a sleepy, confused Yugi appeared. 

“M-Malik?”

“Don’t worry. I’m in control of myself again.”

 _Just barely_. The voice snorted. _Sure we shouldn’t duel him? Might be better. If **we** were in control of everything_. _Instead of abandoning Ryou and Bakura, we could save them ourselves._

 _Can’t save anyone else when I’m still trying to save myself_ , Malik thought. _We’ve seen for ourselves how fearless Ryou is. We’ll have to trust him to think of a way through all this._

“Yugi, I’m not here to ask for your forgiveness, but I do regret my actions.” Malik held Ra out for Yugi to take. 

“Y-your god card?” Yugi looked up, confused. “But you haven’t been disqualified from the tournament, so you can still play.” 

“I forfeit.” Malik’s stare bore into Yugi’s. “I don’t want anything else to do with this tournament. Check your phone, they’ll be a text from Ryou explaining why you need all three god cards.” 

“But I don’t have all three—”

“Not yet,” Malik interrupted. “But you will. You’ll have all the Items too. Here.” He handed the Rod to Malik. 

“Malik, I don’t understand what’s going on.”

“Your confusion is not my problem. You and the Pharaoh can figure it out on your own. I’m taking my siblings and getting the fuck out of here.” Malik sighed, leaning against the doorframe and holding the Ring in both hands. He brushed his thumb against the center of the Ring, hating himself for what he was about to do. “Yes. I know you’re pissed off at me.” 

_And terrified. You left him alone with a darkness far worse than me. What do you think is happening to him in there? I’m sure it’s awful. Worse, even, than our initiation..._

_But Ryou’s safe for now. You saw Bakura protect Ryou during his duel with Yugi, and you know—pissed off or not— he would agree with my actions if he could._ Malik’s jaw tightened. He was resolved in his decision, but still didn’t like the thought of Bakura trapped in the Ring with Zorc. 

_See? Even now you need me. You keep telling yourself you’re doing the right thing, and meanwhile I’ll hold all the guilt you don’t want to deal with._

_I can’t change my coping mechanisms in one night_. Malik admitted to himself. _I don’t know what else to do. His soul and the darkness are too intertwined, so it’s more complicated than merely using the powers of the Ring to move his spirit. Ryou will figure something out. They’ll call me. We’ll continue our planning together when they’re ready._

“But you don’t want an apology,” Malik continued speaking to Bakura in the Ring. “So I’m not going to waste our time with ‘I’m sorry’ or teary goodbyes. I know you're strong enough to survive whatever you're going through right now, and you better take care of Ryou while I’m gone. One more thing, Bakura, tell Zorc Necrophades to go fuck himself with the tip of a pyramid.” Malik kissed the center of the Ring and shoved it at Yugi before he could change his mind and slip the Ring over his own neck if for no other reason than to see Bakura again. Instead, he marched away. 

“Malik, wait!” Yugi called. 

“You know the irony of all this is?” Malik sniffed, spinning to face Yugi, though he still stepped backward. “Pharaoh probably isn’t any different than me. I thought I was a king, a god, I thought I was the hero of my own story and I was _destined_ to rule, but I was a _fool_. I was so caught up in being righteous I didn’t see the pain I caused everyone around me—or when I did see it, I rationalized it. They deserved it because they were unworthy, they were ‘evil,’ but what’s evil? Would curling in a ball in a tomb underground and doing _nothing_ while my father stabbed me with a knife have made me good? I can’t forgive myself for what I did to my own father, but I can’t pretend that it didn’t happen for a reason. Evil usually has a _source_ , and it’s no different with the evil you’ve been struggling with in your hands and wrapped around your neck.” 

“The Items?” Yugi asked. “Are you saying the Items are evil?”

“I’m saying there’s a _reason_ pain and suffering follows them and their users wherever they go. They were made from agony and sorrow. _Grief_. Grief you couldn’t even _imagine_.” Malik turned again. 

“Tell me!” Yugi begged. “How were the Items made?”

“That’s exactly what the Pharaoh needs to remember.” Malik called over his shoulder. “And tell him when he finally does remember, you tell him to swallow his damn pride as I have, and think of how Bakura must have _felt_ when he watched them all die!” 

“Bakura? Do you mean Ryou?” Yugi jogged after Malik, but Malik was out of time. 

Malik slipped into another hall, and hid in a utility closet until after Yugi ran by, shouting his name. He backtracked and took a separate hallway to get to his sister’s room. The lights were on, and she sat in a chair in the corner of the room with a scowl on her face and her hands folded into her lap. 

“Sister…” Malik’s throat grew tight when he saw her. 

“Malik?” She trembled, eyes wide in uncertainty, fear, and a desperate hope it _was_ Malik and not his alternative personality standing before her. 

“Remember when I was three and ran down one of the false passageways in the tomb? I dropped my torch and I was lost in a maze of darkness, and I was so terrified. I cried. I _shrieked_. I wailed until you and Rishid found me and brought me back.” 

“I remember.” Ishizu nodded; tears rolled down her cheeks. 

“Isis...I’m lost.” Malik’s voice cracked. His own tears gathered and spilled. “It’s dark, and confusing, and I’m not sure how to fully get back home. I need help.” 

“Malik.” Isis dashed to him and he fell into her embrace. 

“I want to go home.” He wept. “Right now. Please. Let’s find Rishid and go.” 

“Of course. Right away.” Isis nodded, brushing tears off of her cheeks. “As soon as we—”

“I already spoke to Yugi.” Malik flinched, knowing what Isis wanted. 

_Single minded bitch_. Malik’s other half sneered. 

_Not now,_ Malik winced. 

“I gave him Ra and the Rod, and he has a picture of my back with an explanation.”

Isis paused, thinking over Malik’s words. 

_This is rich. You come **crying** to her, begging for help, and she’s still prioritizing the Pharaoh over us!_

_Not now!_ Malik screamed inside his own soul. _Later. I swear later we’re going to talk about all the reasons you’re mad, but first we need to get away from all this._

“There should be some sort of escape vessels on the ship,” Isis said. “Let’s find them, and then we’ll figure out a way to take Rishid with us.”

“Thank you.” Malik exhaled in relief. 

Isis’s willingness to leave without forcing Malik to return to the Pharaoh calmed his other half, and after they found a small, emergency aircraft they could use to escape, they managed to push Rishid in a wheelchair and fastened him into one of the seats. By sunrise, they were hours away from the blimp and the Battle City tournament. 

“Malik?” A soft voice said behind him. 

Malik glanced over his shoulder. Rishid blinked, looking around with a confused frown on his face. Malik’s chest swelled with relief when he saw Rishid was okay and awake. 

“Good morning,” Malik turned back to the ocean view through the windshield. 

“How are you feeling?” Isis asked. 

“I’ll be fine,” Rishid whispered. 

“I know that’s not a completely honest statement,” Malik said. “You were never one to talk about how you really felt, always trying to hold it in to be strong for my sake, but we can’t be like that anymore—any of us.” He inhaled, steadying himself. “After we’ve all had time to settle, we’re going to have to talk to each other...about what happened, about everything, but for right now, look outside. The sun’s coming up, and this is our first sunrise as a family. We shouldn’t miss it.” 

***

Bakura couldn’t breathe. He gasped, sucking darkness into his throat and coldness into his lungs. Before, returning to the Ring was bitter-sweet. Frigid, but familiar and soothing in the way it caressed him. However, now Necrophades was angry. Manacles clasped around Bakura’s wrists, ankles, and throat, and the darkness around him writhed with anger. 

Zorc stared at Bakura, his icy breath blowing against Bakura’s lips. Despite the cold, despite the way Bakura shivered, the tears burned his eyes. A frozen claw reached out and scraped one of the tears away from Bakura’s scarred cheek. 

**What have they done to you? What have you let them do?**

Bakura shook his head. Not sure how to answer the question. What had they done? Made him hope for a future. Made him fantasize about walking in a park with his fingers twined with Malik’s. Made him flush, and moan, and sweat, and gasp, and _feel good_ for the sake of it, because they cared for him. Bakura raised his head, and in Zorc’s sanguine iris’s, he saw his starry gray-violet eyes reflecting against the red tint of Zorc’s gaze. 

**So you want to be human again?You want to love?**

Zorc’s laughter was worse than his screams. He sucked the tear from his claw, and licked a few more from Bakura’s cheek for good measure. 

**Very well. If it’s what you want. I’ll take back my gifts.**

Zorc reached out. Bakura flinched, but the manacles kept him pinned in the darkness. With a twist of his claws, Zorc dug into Bakura’s chest. Bakura screamed. The pain stole his breath, but it was nothing—nothing compared to what happened after Zorc withdrew his claws. Something black and hard within Bakura's soul dissolved. Zorc pulled out a golden Ring, starting at the center and ending with the tines jerking out of his skin. The second the Ring separated from his body, every memory Bakura ever repressed flooded back to his mind. Replaying and replaying and replaying and replaying and replaying and re—Bakura couldn’t block out a single thought. Fire. Ash. Grief. Ghosts. Scorpion venom. Solitude. Sand crushing him. Loneliness. How hot the blood of the slaver had been the first time he murdered a man. Rage. The desperate plans to drag the Pharaoh down with him. Hands rubbing his shoulders in a way that made his skin crawl. The fire as a copper blade tore open the meat of his cheek. Fighting the royal court. Failing. Dying. 

Dying. He died, and he was dying all over again—again and again. The Spirit of the Ring never learned how to stop the memories, and now they were destroying him. A soft voice broke through the madness, echoing in the darkness. 

_Necrophades, I would like to make a deal with you, please._

“Ryou...no,” Bakura gasped, drool dripped from his lips, but he couldn’t swallow. He was paralyzed from the bombardment of his life, and suffering through the massacre more times than any mind could bear. 

**Perhaps I should pay the host a visit _._**

Bakura opened his mouth to scream no, but couldn't even cry. He was too lost in the flashbacks. Zorc laughed, sifting through the Shadows and leaving Bakura alone with a lifetime of pain crushing him in the lightlessness. 

***

Ryou woke up in a hospital bed. The absence of Bakura’s presence left an aching gap in Ryou’s mind, and the missing weight of the Ring left his chest feeling hollow. 

“Where is it? I need it.” Ryou croaked, searching around him for a glint of gold. 

“You’re awake!” Anzu cheered. “Hey, everyone! Ryou’s awake!” 

A swarm descended upon him, smiling faces and voices offering reassurance. Ryou couldn’t bask in the attention because he knew every second that passed without the Ring was a second Bakura was alone with **him _._ **

“Please...I need it back,” Ryou begged, locking his gaze on Yugi. 

“What do you need, Bakura?” Anzu frowned. She brushed the bangs out of his eyes and tried to soothe him, but he shook his head to free himself from her touch. 

“My Ring. I need...my Ring.” 

“We don’t know where it is.” Honda shook his head. “We found you collapsed in a hallway without it, right Yugi?” 

“Yes.” Yugi managed the lie without much wincing, but Ryou knew he was lying all the same. 

“Please…you don’t understand how important it is to me. Please, Yugi,” Ryou begged. 

“Don’t worry.” Anzu tucked the blankets closer around Ryou’s neck. “Get some rest and recover.” 

“Yeah, once you’re out of the hospital. We’ll take you out somewhere snazzy to eat!” Jounouchi grinned. 

“Yeah, we’ll celebrate your recovery.” Yugi nodded. 

“Wouldn’t need to recover if you hadn’t attacked me with Slifer.” Ryou turned away from them, wondering how Malik and Bakura were and hurting more from their absence than any physical injury. 

“That’s not fair!” Jounouchi defended Yugi. “He had no choice! The Ring took over your personality and was up to no good!” 

“You’re right,” Ryou said in a flat voice. “I’m sorry. Please, let me rest now. Thank you everyone for visiting.” 

“Guys,” Anzu whispered. “He probably doesn’t remember anything, and the doctors have him on some strong medication. We should let him sleep.” 

He heard their goodbyes as they shuffled out the door. Ryou struggled to push himself to his feet, desperate to leave the hospital and find Bakura. However, he crashed against the bed, too exhausted to stand. Whatever medication they’d given him left him dizzy and weak. 

It was a week later before Ryou was able to slip out of his third story hospital window and nudge his way to the fire escape. The wind tugged at Ryou’s hair, but he remained calm as his slid ever closer along the edge of the brickwork. He climbed down the iron ladder and to the alley below. Faster than he knew he could run, Ryou dashed from alley to alley, cutting through Domino City. He knew exactly where to go—Yugi’s place. 

Flashes of old, old memories which weren’t Ryou’s played through his mind as he dashed through the shadows unafraid. He realized his mind link with Bakura had grown deeper than either of them suspected, and even now some of Bakura’s influence remained with him. Ryou cherished the memories. They allowed him to sneak through town and climb up the back of the Game Shop to Yugi’s bedroom window, force his way inside, and slip past the sleeping Yugi without being heard. A few minutes later, Ryou snuck outside again with the Ring in his hand. 

His entire being screamed to slip the Ring over his neck, but he knew he couldn’t, not without being possessed by Zorc Necrophades. Malik had betrayed them, yes, but he’d done so to give Ryou a negotiating chip with Zorc—his body. Zorc couldn’t complete his plans unless Ryou wore the Ring, and Ryou could use that to strike a deal. It was his only way to save Bakura, and he’d only have one chance to negotiate. He had to think carefully. 

Ryou stopped by the store on the way home, loading up on non-hospital food. In his apartment he stuck the groceries in the kitchen. The entire time he thought about how he wanted to word his terms—what was acceptable and what wasn’t. When Ryou had a idea of what he wanted, he sat in his living room floor, holding the Ring with both hands. 

“Necrophades, I would like to make a deal with you, please.”

Ryou waited; ten seconds passed. Then, opaque, black steam swirled from the seams of the golden Ring in Ryou’s hands. It condensed, taking the form of a man-sized demon with blood-red eyes. Ryou stared at Zorc’s eyes, thinking of Bakura. Ryou spoke in a harsh, curt tone. 

“You can’t possess me unless I put the Ring around my neck, so here’s the first part of our deal: you allow me to keep control of my own body same as before, and in return I’ll go to school, smile and tell Yugi everything is great so he doesn’t suspect you’re up to anything.” 

**I don’t need you.** Zorc hissed. 

“To lie to Yugi? No, you could probably do a passable job on your own. Not great, but by the time they figured out what was wrong they’d have bigger problems, but good luck building the diorama by yourself. How are you with a hot glue gun?” 

Zorc growled, narrowing his red gaze. 

**Very well.**

“Good. Now, for the second part of our deal: I want the Thief King’s soul.”

**MINE!**

“No.” Ryou sank his fingers into Zorc’s shadowy form and tugged their faces close. “Mine. My Ring. My spirit. His host. And you need both our cooperation if you want to be resurrected. So give him to me, and we’ll build your fucking game board for you stupid Shadow Game. Otherwise, I’m going to throw the Ring at the bottom of a construction site, fill the hole with wet cement, and you can wait 3,000 more years for your next chance to be reborn.” 

**You wouldn’t leave the thief.**

“If you won’t give him to me, there’s no reason to put myself at risk. Why don’t you ask him what he thinks? He’s probably screaming for me to drop the Ring into the ocean even as we speak. We do things my way, or you wait for another host. No other bargaining.” 

Zorc growled, furious. He and Ryou glared at each other, raw hatred reflecting in both of their eyes. Zorc jerked away, slipping back into the Ring. 

**Fine! Enjoy what’s left of the broken wretch! But if you don’t work fast enough, our deal is off and I’ll steal both of your souls.**

“I hope you and the Pharaoh choke each other to death,” Ryou muttered, but he slipped the Ring over his head, sealing his pact with Zorc. 

_Ryou…_

The voice was weak, drained. Ryou rushed to his soul room to find Bakura crumpled on the bed. His skin was silt-colored, and he wore a crimson robe. His hair was cropped to his shoulders, and his eyes were silvery thistle blooms. Ryou understood this was the Thief King Bakura used to be before he’d given himself to Zorc. 

“Bakura!” Ryou collapsed on top of him, crushing him and kissing his forehead. “I’m sorry it took so long. I’m sorry. Gods, I’m sorry that he hurt you.” 

Bakura didn’t have to tell Ryou Zorc hurt him, Ryou already knew. By the way he clung to Ryou’s shirt and trembled, by the way his heartbeat rattled in his chest, Ryou didn’t know what exactly happened, but he knew it was hell and it was going to take a long time to help ease Bakura away from the pain still imprisoning him. Bakura didn’t yell at Ryou to stop crying or apologizing. Instead, he curled in Ryou’s arms and wept. Horror sank heavy and cold into Ryou’s chest when he heard Bakura's sobs. 

“Bakura, do you want to talk about it?” 

Bakura couldn’t push the words out, hyperventilating as he fisted Ryou’s shirt, but they were in Ryou’s soul room, so Bakura’s memories flashed through Ryou’s thoughts. 

He saw everything. 

Bakura’s entire life. 

Everything the thief tried to forget when he offered his soul to the void.

They wept in each other’s arms. At some point, they fell asleep. Ryou woke up dehydrated and hungry. He fumbled his way to the kitchen for tea and a snack. Bakura appeared—as the Thief King, no longer a twisted shadow of Ryou. Reaching out a hand, Ryou cupped Bakura’s face. His effort was rewarded with a weary smile. 

“It was awful, not having the Ring. I begged them, I begged Yugi, but they lied to me.” Ryou shook his head. 

“Of course they did. I tend to try and kill them when I’m in charge.” Bakura’s grin grew a little stronger, though he still looked ragged. 

“So what? They could have told me. They didn’t have to lie.” Ryou poured himself his tea. “It doesn’t matter. I snuck into Yugi’s room and stole it.” 

“Did you now?” Bakura shot up a silver eyebrow. 

“Yes I did.” Ryou held his tea in one hand and a package of mochi in the other. “Want to play Chrono Trigger?” 

“Your hands look full,” Bakura teased. 

“Nothing’s wrong with your hands.” 

Bakura stared at his hands, touched the darker skin. He was translucent, but the difference in his appearance was stark and noticeable. Ryou loved how Bakura looked as himself. 

“I guess I do, do I?” 

“Let’s play. We’ll need to work on the RPG tonight, but I can’t do anything on an empty stomach.” 

As they played, Ryou watched Bakura more than the game. The soothing music filled the living room. They didn’t really focus on the quest, rather Bakura allowed his thoughts to wander as he built all the character’s levels. They never made it to the RPG. Still exhausted from his injuries, Ryou fell asleep in Bakura’s lap. 

***

The next morning, they woke on the couch tangled together, tears pouring down both their faces. Nightmares, no memories, of the massacre had haunted both of them in their sleep. Nauseous, Ryou did what he always did after a nightmare—brewed a cup of tea. 

Bakura sat in spirit form across from Ryou at the kitchen table. Ryou brought a tea cup up to his lips. Bakura’s hands shook as he rested them on the table top. His entire being had been scrubbed raw with memories while trapped in the Ring, and he hadn’t fully recovered from the experience, perhaps he never would. 

“You were never meant to see,” Bakura whispered, referring to the memories they shared the day before. 

“Was I not?” Ryou took another sip. “If I was destined to be your host, it stands to reason I was destined to see your past. How else can I win your future?” 

“Are you still on about that?” A sad laugh escaped Bakura. “Malik ditched us, give it up.” 

“Malik left because we told him to. You saw the phone number he left under our pillow. He wants us to call him.”

“It’s probably fake.” Bakura snorted, resting his chin in his hands. 

“Easy enough to test.” Ryou pulled his phone from his pocket. 

**GAME!**

The voice boomed in their thoughts, forcing both Ryou and Bakura to cover their ears despite it being useless to block the sound of Zorc’s words. Ryou picked up his phone—which had flown out of his hand—and typed in Malik’s number as he sipped his tea. 

_Us calling Malik benefits you as well_. Ryou projected his thoughts at the Ring. _Otherwise we’ll think of nothing else and it’ll slow us down. Better to settle the matter once and for all so we can focus._

“Do you think Zorc’s stupid?” Bakura snorted, but he moved his chair next to Ryou so he could see the screen as well. 

“I think Zorc understands the quickest way to get what he wants is to not argue with me every step of the way.”

“We’ll see how long that lasts.” Bakura traced his fingers along the rim of Ryou’s cup as if he wanted a sip. 

“We can switch. You could talk to him first.” 

Bakura shook his head no. 

“Very well.” With a sigh, Ryou pressed the “video call” button. He smiled despite himself the moment Malik’s face appeared on the phone screen. 

“Ryou? Gods, are you okay? What happened after I left? Do you—Bakura!” Malik’s eyes flicked beside Ryou as he shouted Bakura’s name. 

“Can you see him?” Ryou and Bakura exchanged a glance. 

“I can.” Malik touched the phone screen. “You both look like hell. Fuck, I’m _sorri-uurgh-fuck_! No, you don’t want to hear apologies, so I won’t give them to you. I did what I thought was best.” 

“You don’t look so great yourself.” Bakura crossed his arms over his chest. 

“Have you been crying?” Ryou asked. 

“Yeah.” Malik swiped at his eyes. “I’ve been talking to Rishid and Isis.”

“Should we let you go?” Ryou asked. 

“No. I think we all need a break. What about you? Have you been crying?” 

“Yeah.” Ryou nodded. “Bakura has all his memories back.” 

“Oh.” Malik’s gaze dropped. “I don’t know much, but from what I learned from the tomb keeper texts...well, it’s obvious why _you_ want to destroy the Pharaoh,” Malik said to Bakura. 

“His reckoning draws close. We’re building a game.” Bakura stared at his closed fist instead of Malik. 

“The less I know the better.” Malik shook his head. “Isis is still loyal to the Pharaoh, and I don’t trust her not to eavesdrop.” 

“We understand,” Ryou said. “But we wanted to hear your voice.” 

“I’m glad you called.” A weary grin flicked across Malik’s face. “I was afraid you’d be angry at me for giving the Ring to Yugi.” 

“I know why you did it. You were buying time for...me.” Ryou rested his hand on Bakura’s leg. 

“I’m fine,” Bakura snapped. 

“Given the options of Zorc sinking his claws in Bakura or both of you, I thought—”

“I said I’m fine!” Bakura shouted before Malik could finish. “If I held a grudge, you’d know.” 

“Because you’d be vowing vengeance?” Malik teased. 

“You still owe me,” Bakura grumbled. 

“Yeah? What do I owe you?” Malik asked. 

“A date, asshole. You owe both of us.” 

“Pick a day. I’ll buy a plane ticket.” Malik blew them a kiss. 

Bakura’s face warmed, and Ryou blushed. 

“Dammit,” Bakura swore. “I was trying to convince myself you’d abandoned us.” 

“Abandoned? Bakura, I _wanted_ to stay. _You_ told me to—”

“It’s okay, Malik.” Ryou held up a hand to calm him. “We understand, but you know how Bakura is.”

“Yeah.” Malik chuckled. “I guess I do, don’t I?”

“Hey, did you notice his eyes?” Ryou’s own beamed as he glanced at Bakura. 

“I noticed.” Malik fidgeted. “He’s human again, and you're both gorgeous.” 

“I was able to bargain with Zorc for Bakura’s soul—because you took the Ring, and I had to choose to put it back on which gave me some leverage, so thank you.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I _guess_ your plan wasn’t as bad as some of your other ones.” Bakura waved Ryou’s politeness away. 

“We should go.” Ryou heaved a slow breath out of his chest. “We have a very task-oriented chaperone watching us, and it’s not pleasant when he yells.” 

“Geez, between Isis and Zorc nagging us, I feel like we’re teenagers with overprotective parents.” Malik laughed, but it was a stressed sound. “She’s still rambling about tombkeeper duties. Can you believe her? That’s why I was crying. My other half blew up at her and I let him—because he was right and she needed to hear what he had to say.” 

“Since Zorc and your sister are being a pain in our asses, maybe we’ll have to sneak away so we can be alone some time.” Bakura shot Malik with his finger. 

“Throw a rock at my window.” Malik winked. He toyed with something off screen as they all stalled their inevitable goodbye. “I miss you both.” 

“We miss you too.” Ryou grabbed at his chest above the Ring. He ached. 

“It’s hard,” Malik confessed. “After sharing a mind link together, being close down to the depths of our souls, and then not even being in the same time zone.” 

“We’ll call you tomorrow,” Bakura blurted out before he could stop himself. 

**NO!**

“Same time?” Malik smiled. 

“Yes.” Ryou blew the phone a kiss. “Until then, you should get some sleep.” 

“Don’t overwork yourself on games, you damn nerds.” Malik blew them each a kiss. 

Bakura balled his hands into fists again. Zorc screamed **NO** in the back of their thoughts. In a fit of defiance, Bakura kissed the tip of his finger and touched the phone screen. 

“I love you,” he said. He said it to remind Zorc that he had never been Zorc’s—not in the same way he was Malik and Ryou’s. 

“I love you too. Goodnight.” Malik giggled, flushed and beautiful even through the phone screen. 

Ryou mouthed _I love you_ before hanging up the phone. Zorc screeched, and they held their hands over their ears out of reflex, but it didn’t dull the sound. 

**YOU WILL NOT—**

“We’ll do whatever we please!” Ryou screamed at the top of his lungs. “You can control my body but _not_ my emotions! Fifteen minutes a day isn’t much to ask for!” 

**I CAN TAKE CONTROL—**

“You know the moment _you_ take over, Yugi is going to know something is rotten.” Bakura laughed. “Better let the host call his boyfriend once a day.” 

_Yes, my boyfriend, only my boyfriend_. Ryou shot the thought directly into Bakura’s mind. 

“We’re going to need so much sand.” Ryou said out loud, knowing focusing on the game would appease Zorc. 

He shoved back his chair, shot the last of his tea, and found his crafting supplies, doing inventory and writing a shopping list of things to pick up on his way home from school. The directness in which Ryou took to working, simmered Zorc’s rage to a low boil. He stopped screaming and let them plan. 

“Duel Monsters is essentially the magic and Ka we fought with in Egypt,” Bakura grabbed a notebook and plopped onto the sofa. “So it’ll probably work best if we integrated some cards into our RPG style game.” 

“Like for spells and key items?” Ryou asked. 

“For a start. Character sheets can be condensed into cards as well—for both players, NPCs, and Ka.” 

“I know this is a death game which will potentially release a demon who’ll murder us all and drown the world in darkness, but I’m really excited to be able to build such a detailed, large scale game complete with diorama.” Ryou hummed as he sorted his paints. 

“You’re a maniac.” Bakura smirked as he sketched in the notepad. 

“You’re one to talk.” Ryou crashed beside him, looping his arms around Bakura’s shoulders, squeezing him. 

“What the fuck?” 

“I needed to hug you.” 

“Nonsense.” Bakura’s smirk softened to a smile. He shifted so he was reclining against the armrest of the couch. Bakura settled Ryou between his legs and on top of his chest. “I need your help designing these. Stay here and work instead of wasting time with affection.” 

“Mmmm, I suppose I have no choice but to totally focus on work now with no affection involved what-so-ever.” Ryou adjusted against Bakura, settling deeper against him. 

**DO YOU THINK I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE DOING?**

“We’ll title each card, have the icon below, and show HP or subscripts at the bottom.” Ryou pointed at the rectangle Bakura drew, showed where he thought they should place everything, and ignored Zorc. 

“HP would be Ba. We can show it as a gage instead of a base number. The Shadow Magic will manipulate the cards and alter the gage accordingly.” Bakura rested his chin on Ryou’s shoulder so he could see while they snuggled. Even in spirit form, he was solid enough to lay on. 

“Really? That’s amazing. Are we sure we should be taking over the world? With power like this we should take over Kaiba Corp and create RPGs,” Ryou said. 

**NO!**

“I wasn’t being literal!” Ryou shouted, glancing over his shoulder at Bakura. “How did you put up with him for 3,000 years when he’s so bad at taking a joke?” 

“Slept.” Bakura shrugged. 

Ryou rolled his eyes. They jotted down all the characters and Ka Bakura could remember. Next they designed cards for the seven Items. They stopped to eat, but worked on the game throughout the day. When the light grew dim in Ryou’s living room. He stretched and yawned. 

“I need to fix something for dinner.”

**GAME!**

“If I pass out from hunger, thirst, or exhaustion, you’re not getting your game or a host to play it with. Humans _must eat, drink, and sleep to function._ ” 

There was bitter consent from the Ring, and Ryou made his way to the kitchen. Bakura followed him—Ryou’s personal shadow. Ryou spun and pecked Bakura on the lips before gathering vegetables and tofu from the fridge. 

“I can’t believe how much you get away with.” Bakura snorted as Ryou fixed a stir fry. 

“Simple. There’s nothing he can do to me he’s not already planning to do, so there’s nothing he can use to manipulate me.” 

“You know, if Zorc succeeds we’ll all be destroyed, but even if his royal High-Ass somehow manages to win this, my soul will go to its weighing and I’ll be swallowed by Ammit.” Bakura touched Ryou’s face, guiding it so their gazes locked. “So if the best happens, take care of Malik for me.” 

“No.” Ryou turned away, stirring his food. “Because you’ll be there to take care of him yourself.” 

“You’re so sure of yourself.” Bakura smirked. “You haven’t accepted the fact that I can’t be saved.” 

“And if I haven’t?” Ryou shot him a fierce stare. Shivers darted to Bakura’s core as Ryou continued. “I already told you, I have nothing to lose, so why not go out fighting for the ones I love?” 

“Idiot,” Bakura whispered, but even in his ethereal form, he knew his cheeks were dark and flushed. 


	7. Chapter 7

Ryou spent the rest of his senior year almost as if he were normal. He went to classes, hung out with Yugi and his other friends, and occasionally did something with them after school so he didn’t seem distant. Bakura floating beside him wasn’t quite normal, but fortunately Ryou and Malik were the only two who could see him, so the others never realized Ryou wore the Ring again. Each afternoon he’d return home, eat a snack, and work on the game for a few hours. When he needed a break, he’d call Malik. Sometimes they’d talk about the deaths of their families, sometimes they’d distract themselves with idle chat. Zorc complained each time, but the more Zorc complained, the longer Ryou would talk, until Zorc learned to stay more or less quiet as long as Ryou continued his work. 

Ryou visited the museum and proposed his idea of a model for the Egyptian exhibit. Since his father owned the museum, it was easy to convince the curator to agree to Ryou’s suggestion. Thus, Ryou spent several hours each day setting the stage for what might become the epoch of the end of the world. Each night he’d return home, exhausted, talk to Malik, and go to sleep, but as the weeks stretched out, Ryou grew more and more restless during the long nights. 

“I can’t sleep.” 

“I know,” Bakura said. “Because you’re keeping me awake.” 

“This reminds me of before. When I first realized you were in the Ring, but you’d barely talk to me.” Ryou shoved a pillow over his face and growled into it. 

“Oh? _Frustrated_ , are you?” Bakura purred into Ryou’s ear as he teased Ryou’s hair. 

“Yes.” Ryou flung the pillow to the floor and rolled on top of Bakura. 

Bakura’s eyes rounded. He arched his back, parting his lips and silently daring Ryou to kiss him. Ryou knew the consequences, but couldn’t resist. Their tongues swirled together. Bakura whimpered and Ryou moaned. Heat pooled into Ryou’s stomach. He rolled his hips, dragging their groins together. Without, warning, Ryou was shoved off the bed. He slammed against the wall and crashed to the carpet. 

**DO NOT TOUCH MY THIEF!**

“I told you he’s _mine!_ ” Ryou pushed himself to his hands and knees and shouted into the empty room.

“Ryou—”

“No. I’m building his stupid game, he can’t tell me what to do before bed.” 

Ryou’s hair drooped into his face, the tips lay limply along the floor. He raised his face, staring at Bakura. Even translucent, Bakura’s flush was visible in the dim-lit room. Ryou crawled toward the bed, a determined gleam in his eyes. 

The tines of the Ring plunged into Ryou’s chest, through the scar tissue. Ryou screamed, dropped onto the floor, and curled in on himself. 

“ _Fuck_!”

“Stop it!” Bakura crashed beside Ryou and shouted at the Ring. 

“Fuck...you…Zorc..” Ryou gripped the Ring and tore the tines out of his chest, breaking the rope around his neck in the process. He glared at the Ring, tines dripping his blood. “Do you think after everything you’ve done this intimidates me? Again. Fuck. You. This is _nothing_.”

Ryou laughed, hard, loud, bitter. 

“Um. Ryou?” Bakura’s mouth dropped. He blinked at Ryou. 

“Hold this and follow me. We’re about to play a game.” Ryou shoved the Ring at Bakura and used the bed to pull himself to his feet. 

“I do enjoy games.” Bakura forced a grin onto his face, but his eyes betrayed his concern. 

“You’ll enjoy this one, all right.” Ryou pressed his blood-soaked shirt to his chest and walked to the bathroom. 

Bakura re-tied the rope so he could slip the Ring around his neck. The tines couldn't puncture his ethereal chest, so he was able to wear it without harm. He followed Ryou to the bathroom. The tines reached toward Ryou as if they wanted to strangle him, but Bakura kept a few step’s distance between them. Ryou eased his shirt over his head, cleaned, and disinfected the puncture marks on his chest before bandaging them as he’d done the first time the Ring marked him. 

“I’ve gotten too good at binding my own wounds since I’ve met you.” Ryou said as he rolled a final coating of gauze and tape around his chest. 

“You're welcome,” Bakura said in a cool tone, but he studied Ryou with caution. “You okay?” 

“I’m pissed off,” Ryou answered. 

“Clearly.” 

Ryou leaned against the counter. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” 

“No, but I can read your thoughts, and I’m intrigued.” Bakura lidded his stare. 

“Good.” Ryou brushed his hair out of his face. 

Ryou gestured for them to return to his room. He shoved Bakura onto the bed. Bakura’s hair scattered behind his head like a halo. His eyes were blown out as he stared at Ryou. The tines on the Ring sprang toward him like angry claws, but Ryou kept himself high enough over Bakura to avoid their prick. Careful of their sharp points, Ryou stripped the red cloak from Bakura’s shoulders before tugging the Ring away. Zorc roared in their minds, but Ryou only glared at the gold. 

“Not tonight. I’m sick of you chaperoning us. Go away or watch—but I’m not going to stop no matter how much you scream.” 

Bakura laughed, the sound echoed throughout the room. Avoiding the Ring itself, Ryou teased the rope around Bakura’s neck. 

“I’d rather not get stabbed again. How do you feel about being tied up?” 

“There hasn’t been a knot invented that can hold me, but I do enjoy role playing.” Bakura lidded his gaze. 

“Then consider yourself captured.” Ryou stole a kiss before pulling the Ring away from Bakura. 

As long as the Ring held Bakura’s soul, he couldn’t remove it entirely, but tying it around Bakura’s wrists still counted as one of them ‘wearing it.’ With Bakura’s wrists crossed over his head, Ryou twisted the rope between Bakura and the iron work of the bed’s headboard. The tines clinked against the metal as Zorc ragged, but he couldn't do anything without the Ring around Ryou's neck. 

“How does that feel?” Ryou asked. 

“Fine,” Bakura said. 

“Wiggle your fingers,” Ryou ordered; Bakura obeyed. “It won’t cut the circulation or hurt your nerves?” 

“Technically, I don’t _have_ a circulatory system or nerves.” Bakura shrugged. 

“Okay, but tell me if it tingles, and most importantly, tell me if your hands or fingers get cold.” 

“The Ring’s burning right now—Zorc is pissed—but at least it’s harder to hear his insistent bitching when the Ring isn’t around either of our neck.” 

“Is the gold too hot?” Ryou sensed Bakura’s emotions, but knew Bakura tended to shove his emotions aside, so he wanted to make Bakura _think_ about how he felt to make sure he enjoyed what they were about to do instead of enduring through it. 

“Nothing will ever bother me as much as the cold from before,” Bakura spread his brown legs, inviting Ryou to start. “Show him how it’s done, Ryou.” 

“It’s been too long.” Ryou circled his arms around Bakura’s neck and kissed his sternum. 

Ryou allowed his weight to rest between Bakura’s legs, but kept his kisses delicate as he explored Bakura’s dark chest. This was the first time Ryou had a chance to truly enjoy Bakura’s body as it’d been in life without the corruption of the Ring making him look like a wan spectre, so he let each kiss linger against Bakura’s translucent, but solid skin, exploring the curves of Bakura’s body at his leisure. Ryou unwrapped the dyed indigo cloth around Bakura’s waist. Sliding his fingers up and down Bakura’s thighs, Ryou shifted his kisses lower. Bakura’s breath hitched and his hips rose and fell. 

“Oh shit…” Bakura moaned. “It really has been a long time. I’m...I-I’ve never looked forward to sex before. Not like this.” 

“ _I’m going to love you with everything I have,_ _Bakhura_ ,” Ryou spoke in Middle Egyptian, knowing the words from what he’d absorbed from Bakura’s memories. 

Ryou pronounced Bakura’s name in the way Bakura remembered it spoken as a child. Bakura’s breath caught in his throat when he heard it said out loud for the first time since the massacre. Ryou lunged for his mouth, kissing him deeply. They returned where they left off, tongues twirling around each other. Ryou’s fingers searched out his skin, teasing each scar they came to. He broke their kiss only to smother Bakura’s neck in gentle bites, kneading his lips against Bakura’s ghostly flesh as he worked his way back down. 

Ryou flicked his tongue against Bakura’s nipples, dragging his nails across Bakura’s skin. Bakura’s chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths. He squirmed, desperate beneath Ryou’s never-ending barrage of kisses. Ryou continued to Bakura’s belly, around his pelvis, and to his thighs. 

“ _Bakhura. Bakhura. Bakhura. My beautiful Bakhura. My precious thief._ ” With old, old words, Ryou muttered sweet nothings against Bakura’s skin as he kneaded his lips against Bakura’s body. 

He held Bakura’s leg, kissing behind his knee and down his calf. Ryou reached Bakura’s ankle and he dragged his lips along the curve of Bakura’s foot bones. Dabbing out his tongue, Ryou licked the arch of Bakura’s foot before kissing up the pad and sucking on Bakura’s smallest toe. 

“Oh fuck! Ryou fuck! Oh my gods, Ryou! This feels amazing, holy fuck!” Bakura's hair clung to his sweat-kissed face as he squirmed against the bed.

Ryou would have accused Bakura of hamming it up for the sake of angering Zorc, but the flow of emotion from Bakura through their mental link left no doubt in Ryou’s mind that every shout and moan was 100% authentic. Ryou grinned as the demon roared beside them, and his thief unravelled beneath him. 

***

Bakura’s body tingled. Each time Ryou muttered his name, _heka_ charged his _ren._ Bakura squirmed as Ryou kissed his way to Bakura’s feet. When Ryou placed Bakura’s smallest toe into his mouth, Bakura couldn’t stop from screaming compliments and profanity. The blood rushing in Bakura’s ears drowned out the last of Zorc’s complaints, and when Ryou moved to the next toe, Bakura’s eyes rolled backward from the wet, warm, pleasant sensation of Ryou’s tongue teasing each digit. 

“I love you,” Ryou kissed the arch of Bakura’s opposite foot, licking and kissing his way to Bakura’s other toes. 

Bakura struggled to break the rope around his wrists. He wanted to shove Ryou’s perfect mouth right on top of his cock, but restrained himself because he remembered the Ring. Ryou kissed his heel a few times before curving to Bakura’s ankle. Bakura swore again, aroused out of his mind. 

A strange silence filled the room. Bakura’s shouts still rang out, and the bedsprings creaked as Ryou shifted to kiss more, and more, and more of Bakura’s body, but Zorc no longer shouted through the Ring. Instead, the demon watched, seething at the way Bakura writhed beneath Ryou’s lips and tongue. Bakura tried to laugh, but a moan of pleasure broke the action. 

“Of fuck, Ryou please, Ryou please, Ryou please…” he begged, begged, begged, needing— _needing_ —Ryou to give him more. 

“Yes, Bakura, my love. I’m going to give you everything you want.” Ryou propped Bakura’s ass higher with a pillow before cramming his tongue into Bakura’s asshole. 

“Sweet damned gods! Holy fucking shit godsdamn!” Bakura’s heart raced. He gasped for air, rocking back and forth against Ryou’s wiggling tongue. 

“Don’t you wish Malik were here?” Ryou asked between slow, broad licks. 

The thought of Malik caused Bakura to moan louder, deeper, more sensually. Malik would love torturing Bakura in front of Zorc, showing the demon all the ways he’d failed despite thousands of years of practice. 

“He’s going to be so mad I had you all to myself.” Ryou hummed against Bakura's asshole. 

“Ryou! Make me come! I can’t stand it anymore!” 

“All right.” Ryou fetched a small bottle of lube from his nightstand. 

They’d filched it a few weeks prior, but never had a chance to use it because Zorc’s shouting was usually enough to ruin the mood. But now Ryou drenched his cock in the clear gel and plunged deep into Bakura’s body. Bakura’s toes curled. His cock throbbed with a pulse he thought he lost thousands of years ago. His orgasm hovered just out of reach, but Ryou slipping in and out of Bakura’s lube-wet asshole was bringing it closer. 

Bakura bucked his hips. His face burned; his entire body was on fire. Ryou’s hair draped over his face, and sweat glistened down his chest as he pumped into Bakura’s body. They both breathed hard, sensing each other’s arousal through their bond. 

“I’m...I’m so close!” Bakura squealed as a heavy pressure condensed in his stomach. 

His mind wandered to Malik. He imagined Malik sitting on his face as he licked Malik’s ass at the same time Ryou continued to thrust inside Bakura. Ryou whimpered at the image, struggling to hold back his own orgasm. 

“Bakura!” 

“Gods, Ryou. Don’t stop! I’m- _mmm!”_

A spasm wracked Bakura’s body. The pressure in his stomach dropping lower. He wailed, and sucked in shallow breaths, before curling in on himself as much as he could while tied and drenching his own belly as waves of come shot from his cockhead without Ryou even having a chance to stroke him. 

“K-kura—” the name caught in Ryou’s throat as he came as well. 

He leaned close, kissing Bakura. Ryou’s fingers twined through Bakura’s hair. Unable to use his arms, Bakura hooked his right leg around Ryou’s waist. It was a full minute before Bakura glanced at the Ring. 

“It’s cool now.” 

“And it’s awfully quiet in my head.” Ryou reached out, brushing his fingers against the gold. 

The tines hung limply, no longer trying to pierce Ryou. With tentative movements, Ryou un-tied Bakura and slipped the Ring back over his head. They waited, Ryou straddled over Bakura, and Bakura propped up onto his elbows. The silence rang in the room and in their heads. The rage emanating from the Ring was thick and focused directly at Ryou, but Zorc himself had gone radio silent. 

“I think you broke him.” Bakura giggled, high from orgasm. “Put him in his place so hard he’s speechless!” 

Ryou gave Bakura a warm, but somewhat dry smile. It was unnerving, sensing the dead, silent raw hatred. It felt like when one couldn’t hear a knife slipping from a belt in the dark, but instinct warned of the danger without the sensory confirmation of it. 

“I love you.” Ryou cupped Bakura’s face.

“I love you too.” Bakura blushed, glancing away as he said it. 

A hum from the nightstand distracted them. Ryou grabbed his cellphone and checked his texts. 

“Malik?” Bakura asked, changing the subject. 

“Yes.” Ryou tilted the screen so they could read the text together. 

_I felt that. Guess our mind link is stronger than I thought. Most awkward family dinner ever. Had to excuse myself and go to the bathroom, pretending I had a migraine. Bakura’s little fantasy at the end was particularly distracting._

_I’m sorry_ , Ryou replied to Malik’s text. _I thought without the Rod our link wouldn’t affect you so strongly._

_Usually it's not so detailed. You both must have been thinking about me pretty hard ;)_

_Of course we were <3_

Bakura stole the phone, swyping his own message. 

_Ryou decided to establish a pecking order with Zorc._

_Yeah?_ Malik responded. _How did that go?_

Ryou stole the phone again, answering. _Yugi better win, or I better figure out a way to destroy all our souls because oblivion is far kinder than what he’ll do to us after he’s freed._

A dark chortle vibrated in their minds, a promise that what Zorc would do was worse than anything Ryou could imagine. For all his naive optimism, Ryou understood the stakes, and he swallowed at the unspoken threat.

_Don’t worry, if I couldn’t beat Yugi, there’s no way Zorc can._

“Cute, Ishtar.” Bakura snorted. “He would be egotistical enough to think he was more skilled at Shadow Games than the god who invented them.” 

“It’s why we love him.” Ryou smiled, typing into the phone. _Are you still eating dinner?_

_I’m about to go back. I needed a few minutes to calm down._

_Did you come?_ Bakura punctuated the question with a devil emoji. 

_Maybe. You assholes still owe me a date._

_Bitch, you still owe me the Rod._

_Oh, I plan on giving you my Rod. Open wide 8//////////D O:_

Bakura and Ryou both exploded into giggles. 

_Shit, Isis is asking if I’m okay. I have to go for real this time. Goodnight, miss/love you <3_

_Yeah, yeah, sap!_

“Gimme.” Ryou took the phone, adding, _Bakura translation: we love and miss you too!_

_Oh yeah, I’m fluent in asshole-speak. I knew what he meant._

Bakura stole the phone yet again. _You *would* be fluent in speaking asshole._

_Next time I see you, I’m shutting that smart mouth of yours with my own. Goodnight! Quit replying before I get a lecture._

_But we love you_. Bakura smirked, replying out of defiance more than romance. 

_You just have to have the last word, don’t you?_ Malik asked. 

_What about you?_

Ryou stole the phone a final time, rising from the bed and texting as he walked. 

_He can’t help it. He misses you, but we’ll let you get back to your family…_ Ryou sighed before sending one last message. _Dammit, being away from you hurts. We’ll be thinking about you. We love you so much. We love you so much. We—okay, okay I’m going. Goodnight!_

Malik responded with a blue, purple, and red heart. Ryou’s chest throbbed. He set the phone aside and slipped into the shower. Bakura appeared behind him a moment later. 

“Want to skip school tomorrow? My attendance has been good lately and I can fake a cold. We can work on the game extra as a peace offering to our pet owner and sneak in a little Chrono Trigger time during our break. 

“You had me at Chrono Trigger.” 

Bakura wiped the dampness away from Ryou’s cheek. Water dripped down his face from the shower, but a few of the drops were tears from missing Malik, and Ryou was glad he had Bakura there to miss Malik with him. 

***

“Finished. Damn my hands _hurt_.” Ryou dropped into the giant stage they’d created inside the museum for Ryou’s ’special exhibit.’ 

“Here.” Bakura grabbed Ryou’s hands and massaged them.

“Sooo good.” Ryou hummed as Bakura worked each finger before lowering to Ryou’s palms and wrists. 

“I love making you feel good,” Bakura whispered in a rare instance of tenderness. 

Ryou glanced at him. They hadn’t slept together since the night three weeks ago. Zorc still refused to speak, allowing them to do anything they wanted, but there was an unspoken promise that if they bedded each other again something unspeakable would happen, and neither of them quite dared to test Zorc’s threat. 

“I think we’ve earned an extended break. Why don’t we schedule a video call for this weekend. A longer call...there won’t be many more chances for one. Everything’s coming together now. 

“Sure, why not?” Bakura switched to Ryou’s other hand. 

They waited—holding their breath—for Zorc to object, but he still simmered below the surface of the Ring, saying nothing. 

“You want to text him? Or should I?” Ryou asked when nothing happened. 

Bakura kissed the back of Ryou’s hand and pulled the cell phone from Ryou’s pants pocket. 

_What’s up, sexy? Were your ears burning? Coz we were talking about you._

_Good morning, Bakura._

_Actually, this is Ryou <3_

_Shut up. I know the difference, but tell Ryou I said hi._

_He’s reading these with me,_ Bakura said. 

_What are you two up to?_ Malik asked. 

_You know. Bringing about the end times. Typical Thursday evening activities. Will probably grab some dinner soon._

_What’s on the menu?_ Malik asked again. 

_Pork ramen!_

“Not again.” Ryou groaned. 

“But it’s the best,” Bakura argued. 

“You can’t even possess me anymore. We’re ordering something else.” 

“But I like to _think_ I’m eating it. What a mean ex-landlord you are!” 

“Oh please.” Ryou rolled his eyes, but a huge grin decorated his face. “You think I’m the mean one between the two of us?” 

“Yes. Most certainly.” Bakura checked the phone again, seeing what Malik said. 

_Isn’t Ryou sick of pork ramen by now?_

They both laughed. It amazed Bakura, how often they laughed together. Both when talking to Malik or each other. He’d forgotten...how it felt to laugh in joy instead of bitterness. 

_A little bit, but he said he’d indulge me._

“I said nothing of the sort.” Ryou snorted. 

_Tell him to toss the Ring in a trash compactor and come find me for some kushari._

_Tempting. We’ll have to take a rain check,_ Bakura typed. 

_Fine. Fine. Other than dinner, what are you two up to?_

_We were hoping you had some free time this weekend? Ryou wanted an extended call._

_What time?_

“Tell him 3pm,” Ryou said. 

_3pm your time._

_Okay. I should have the place to myself. It’ll be nice to have a conversation without worrying about my siblings accidentally figuring out what you’re doing._

_We can’t wait :P_ Bakura added, _Oooops, I meant <3_

_Yeah, I bet you did lol_

_So what are you doing today?_ Bakura asked. 

_Stupid tomb keeper bullshit. There are artifacts we have to sort and bla bla bla boring stuff._

_Don’t worry. After Zorc shreds the fabric of reality, they’ll be no more boring busy work to do._

_Wow. You guys are like, my heroes._

_YW!_

_I start therapy tomorrow._ Malik typed suddenly. _I’m...nervous...excited...angry…_

_If you don’t like it, just set your other half loose in the office._

_Ha! He really liked that statement. You know, he’s always liked Ryou, but I think you’re growing on him too, Bakura._

_Flattered._ Bakura snorted. _Anyway, I better feed the Host. You know how you silly living humans get when you don’t get regular food and drink._

_Not to mention what we do *afterward*_

_Classy. Say goodbye to Ryou. He misses you._

_Only him?_

_No :P_

Bakura shoved the phone into Ryou’s hands. 

_Hello! <3 Ryou typed. _

_Hey <3 _

_I miss you!_

_Same, but you need to go eat. Love you both!_

_We love you too._

“Goddammit,” Bakura muttered. “This is so... _normal_. I feel like vomiting.” 

“Even if the Shadow RPG kills us, I hope Yugi wins.” Ryou stared at the ceiling. “I want a world to exist where people can sneak away and kiss, or duel, or where children can have tea parties, or dogs can run through the park. There’s a lot of hurt in the world, but I still love this world.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "there's a lot of hurt in the world, but I still love this world"
> 
> ...mood, Ryou...fucking mood


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit, I forgot the disclaimer! Ryou gets stabbed again in this chapter (Bakura is a bad influence and he stabs himself this time). But he gets magically healed right afterward, so no lasting injury!

Ryou avoided Yugi and the others Friday in order to fill the stage with sand and set up the mountain borders. Afterward he was filthy, so he grabbed pork ramen—Bakura talked him into it—showered, and went to sleep. The next day was restless. 3pm in Luxor was 10pm in Domino and the wait was driving Ryou mad, but he didn’t want to go to the museum. Instead, he spent the day painting figurines and the evening sealing them so the paint wouldn’t flake. 

“You were never this cooperative for _me_ when I was planning on killing Yugi.” Bakura sat with his arms crossed over his chest. He’d helped most the day, but the last hour he paced around the living room and checked the time every three minutes. 

“I want this to be over.” Ryou dropped his paint brush into a cup. 

In truth, he wanted Zorc to be complacent. The harder they worked toward Zorc’s goals, the less the demon would expect the knife Ryou had hidden up his sleeve. Ryou smiled. 

“I love you,” Ryou said to Bakura

“What was that for?” Bakura turned away, trying to hide how flustered the statement made him. 

It was for all the bad habits which had rubbed off on Ryou because of their deep mental connection, more specifically, it was because Bakura had taught Ryou how to lie, and the only way Ryou’s plan could work is if he lied so well that not even the demon preying on Ryou’s soul could call his bluff. 

“Save it for Malik.” Bakura checked the time on Ryou’s cell phone for the hundredth time. He did his best to act aloof, but Ryou felt the affection radiating from Bakura’s thoughts. 

“Don’t be afraid of Zorc, Bakura,” Ryou said. “We’ll be okay.” 

Bakura gave him a humorless laugh. Ryou understood the sound even without their mental connection: of course Bakura thought they should be afraid. They’d played a dangerous game against a dark god who intended on destroying them after the Dark Game as punishment for their hubris. Yet Ryou hadn’t even begun his defiance. Taking Bakura right beneath Zorc’s nose has been a decoy move. It was better for Zorc to write Ryou off as a love-sick, horny teenager with his mind in the gutter. Ryou was depending on that camouflage to hide his true intentions. 

Yugi and the Pharaoh couldn’t be trusted to save anyone but themselves and their closest friends—which Ryou learned during Battle City didn’t include him. However, Ryou’s ambitions were much more grand. It wasn’t good enough to only protect his own. He was going to protect everyone. Everyone. And Zorc wouldn’t see it coming. 

“I have faith everything will work out.” Ryou hummed as he set his last figurine down. Everything was going to work out because he was fucking going to _make sure of it_. “What time is it?” 

“9:54.” Bakura sighed. 

“Close enough. I bet Malik is pacing as much as you are.”

“I’m not pacing!” 

“Of course not.” Ryou laughed. 

“I’m not.” 

“Oh dear, my shirt is covered in paint. This isn’t acceptable for a video call with Malik.” Ryou changed the topic by pulling his shirt off and setting it on his bed. 

“Are we doing a topless call?” Bakura smirked, shrugging off his scarlet robes. “There. We match.”

“Not like we used to. Your chest is more broad than mine.” Ryou blushed as he grabbed his laptop and brought up Skype. 

“You like?” Bakura trailed a teasing hand along his translucent form. 

Just hot-blooded men, lusting for each other. Ryou allowed his authentic desire to flush through his thoughts masking any other intentions. 

A dark rumble echoed from the Ring. Not quite a growl, but still a warning. Zorc _did not want_ them to fool around. Ryou glared at the Ring, unimpressed by the burning sensation of the gold against his skin. His disdain toward Zorc was also authentic. 

“Are you still insecure about the other night?” Ryou twirled his hair around his finger. “Just because you don’t know how to use that giant dragon dick of yours, you’re going to hold a grudge against me? Shouldn’t you be nicer to your destined host? Afterall, I’m the one building the stage for your return.” 

“Will you stop wasting time with Zorc and call Malik already?” Bakura snapped. 

The skin on Ryou’s chest was red where the Ring lay, but Ryou had developed a good deal of pain tolerance since he’d met the Spirit, so he ignored the gold burning him like a hot curling iron held to his chest and hit “call” instead. 

Meanwhile, Zorc whispered in the back of Ryou’s mind, but the words he muttered were inhuman and indiscernible even with the power of the Ring connecting them. Ryou continued to smile, as if his skin didn’t burn, as if madness wasn’t tugging at his mind more fiercely with each passing second because of the whispers in his mind. This was all part of Ryou’s plan, keeping Zorc angry at all the wrong things while Ryou set up a different game in plain sight of his enemy. 

“Are we doing a topless call? Because I’m game.” Malik said after appearing on the screen. He slipped off his shirt and ran a finger across his chest. “Like what you see?” 

“You and Bakura are two of a kind.” Ryou laughed, his heart soring the second he saw Malik’s image on the screen. 

“Goddamn Malik. Have you been bench pressing the entire time you’ve been gone?” Bakura whistled. Malik had gained at least 7kg of muscle since the last time they’d seen him. 

“I’ve been doing physical therapy for my back. It still hurts, but my mobility has improved so I've been doing some weightlifting as well, and I’ve been managing my depression better so I’m eating more.” Malik hugged himself, looking bashful at the confession, but the demure expression only sharpened his beauty. 

“How did therapy go?” Ryou asked. 

“Good, I think.” Malik scratched the back of his shoulder. “It was mostly introduction, but the therapist seems like he’ll be okay to talk to.”

“Are you going to tell him about the Items?” Bakura’s brow furrowed. 

“Yes, but I’ll fail to mention Shadow Magic. I’m going to explain I grew up in an underground cult cult...it’s close enough to the truth. Just because the prophecies were correct and the Pharaoh has actually returned doesn’t make the tombkeepers anything more than a sick cult.” Malik sighed. 

“Hey, cheer up! We’re not wearing any shirts.” Bakura’s nose scrunched as he grinned. 

“True, too bad we’re not closer together.” Malik smiled. 

“We’re close enough.” Ryou spider-crawled his fingers up and down the side of Bakura’s arm. “When we concentrate on you, you can sense our mind link, correct?” 

“I do.” Malik’s face softened and his eyes lidded in thought. “Sometimes, if I’m having a rough day, sensing wisps of you two helps. Isis and Rishid are trying to be a support system for me, but there’s so much baggage we have to hash out before I trust them the same way I trust the two of you.” 

“Do you truly trust us, Malik?” Ryou asked. 

“I do.” 

“I’m glad. I’m not sure what will happen during our game, so I want one last night where we three can be together. Please don’t scream.” Ryou pulled out a knife from his pocket and flicked it so the blade swung open. 

“Ryou?” Malik blinked when he saw the knife. 

“Don’t go doing something stupid!” Bakura grabbed for the knife, but Ryou jumped off the bed and out of his way. 

“Oh, it was a brilliant plan when _you_ stabbed my body, but it’s stupid when I do it?” Ryou licked the blade, mimicking Bakura from the first day they met Malik. 

“Ryou, wait—” 

Bakura lunged at him but it was too late. Ryou stabbed his arm above the original scarline. Bakura and Malik were talking over each other at Ryou, but he couldn’t process their words. Zorc started, as confused by Ryou’s actions as the others. The shock gave Ryou enough time to set his plan in motion. Ryou tossed the knife on the bed. Dropping to the mattress, he used his blood to draw a sigal on his chest, muttering the spell Malik taught him during Battle City. Zorc howled as the magic sealed him. Ryou’s wound closed, leaving blood cooling against his skin, but he didn’t need to bandage himself again. 

“Ryou, what the fuck.” Bakura smacked his forehead. 

“Sorry, if Zorc knew what I was up to, he would have stopped me.”

“I get it, but damn.” Bakura gritted his teeth. 

“Clever.” Malik smirked from the screen. “Looks like we’re getting a night without any of our chaperones.” 

“Ryou…” Bakura stared at Ryou with wide eyes. 

“I’m okay, Bakura. I knew the spell would heal me.” Ryou threaded his fingers with Bakura’s. “I’m sorry if you were worried.” 

“I had no idea what you were planning. How did you hide your thoughts from me?” 

“I’ve been hiding a lot of things. I’m sorry. I’d rather it not be like this, but I can’t risk Zorc knowing my true plans.” 

“But _how_?” 

“The same way Malik used to block things from us despite our mind link. Remember the dark shell his other half wrapped around parts of his mind? I did the same, only instead of using anger as my shield—I use my love for you and Malik. You’ve felt it, right? The brightness inside me?” 

“I just thought it was because you were in love,” Bakura said. 

“I am, but behind the light I’ve been planning exactly how I’ll save us, and before we can take full advantage of our night off together, I need to share my plans with both of you.” 

***

Pride welled in Bakura’s chest. Ryou’s compassion and tenderness made Bakura forget how calculating he was. Ryou explained his plan as he wiped the blood away from his arm, and changed the sheets to fresh ones. By the time he finished, Bakura was swooning. He couldn’t have devised a better plan himself. It was risky—and he wasn’t thrilled about involving the Pharaoh—but if they played their cards right, Bakura would be rid of all his enemies without hurting any of Ryou’s precious, idiot friends. 

“Don’t worry,” Malik said after Ryou explained what he’d have to do. “I’m confident I can find what we need.” 

“We’re counting on you, Malik.”

“You’re doing me a favor, honestly.” Malik shrugged. “Work will be much less boring now I have something to look forward to.” 

Bakura dropped back onto the bed. Something to look forward to...Malik and Ryou taught him how to hope for the future—something he’d never had in his first life. For Bakura, this wasn’t the hope of a second chance, but a firs. He’d be able to live the life he couldn’t have in Egypt. 

“One last thing, I’m sure Zorc thinks this is a conjugal visit.” Ryou leaned toward the laptop screen, eyes trained on Malik. “And we wouldn’t want to disappoint him, yeah? He’d get suspicious. You didn’t get to watch us last time, Malik, would you like to watch us now?” 

“Let me prepare,” Malik purred before disappearing from the camera’s view to gather lube and tissues. 

Ryou adjusted their laptop, and patted Bakura’s thigh. “Sit on the edge of the bed.” 

“Have plans for me too, do you?” Bakura ran his tongue along his bottom lip to entice Ryou. 

“I want Malik to have a nice show.” 

“Since we do owe him.” Bakura scooted to the edge of the bed. 

His legs dangled over the side, not tall enough for his feet to reach. Ryou giggled and Bakura told him to shut up, but it only made Ryou giggle more. His face lit up as he laughed, hair trembling against the platform of his naked shoulders. 

“I miss your laughter.” Malik appeared in view again. He angled his camera so they could see his entire body as he rested against his headboard with two pillows supporting his back. 

“If all goes well, we’ll be in Egypt in a few weeks.” Ryou blew Malik a kiss. 

“And if it goes poorly we’ll all be dead—if we’re lucky.” Bakura winked. 

“No, see, this bullshit. This is the thing my therapist was on to me about yesterday. You’re afraid if you get anything good it’ll get taken away and that’ll hurt, and you’ve been hurt so much you can’t bear it, so you hide behind negative language to pretend you don’t care to avoid the hurt, but—”

“Oh baby yes!” Bakura moaned in mock ecstasy. “Psychoanalyses my sarcasm a little more, you dirty bitch. It gets me rock hard.” 

“Using humor as a shield is an avoidance tactic.” Malik stuck his tongue out. 

“Then why don’t we redirect his thoughts?” Ryou toyed with Bakura’s hair. “Malik, tell me what you’re planning to do to Bakura when you see him next.” 

“Going to enact it on my behalf?” Malik raised his eyebrows. 

“I am a vessel.” Ryou gave Malik a coy smile. 

“Well? Are you going to get onto him for his self-deprecating remark?” Bakura pouted. 

“I was being ironic,” Ryou said. 

“So when you’re sarcastic it’s ironic, but when I'm sarcastic it’s avoidance?” 

“Yes. Precisely.” Ryou kissed Bakura’s nose. 

“First thing I’m going to do when I see Bakura is kiss him, hard.” Malik licked his lips. “That will at least shut him up for a moment.”

“Malik, you are brilliant.” Ryou grabbed Bakura by the jaw and shoved their lips together. Bakura surrendered to it, not having the will (nor desire) to argue. 

“Trail down his neck and along his collarbone.” 

Ryou obeyed, nibbling at the flesh above Bakura’s carotid artery. Bakura grabbed Ryou’s hips, smoothing his fingers along Ryou’s skin before tugging Ryou’s zipper and fighting to get Ryou out of his pants. 

“You’re both sexy,” Malik purred from the screen as he slipped out of his own pants. “Bakura, your hair’s a mess. I wish I was tugging at it right now.” 

It wasn’t a direct order, but nevertheless, Ryou corkscrewed his fingers around Bakura’s white locks and yanked. Bakura whimpered, wanting more. He stared directly into Ryou’s eyes and both of them flushed. 

“Kiss the scar on his face as you knead his chest.” Malik watched them through the computer screen before giggling. “Gods, I can’t believe I’ve fucked the King of Thieves!” 

“Was I everything you prayed for?” Bakura glanced at the camera. 

“You’re better than anything I ever daydreamed about.” Malik touched the area above his heart. 

Bakura grew bashful at the comment, hiding his face in Ryou hair and twisting Ryou’s nipple to distract himself. 

“Kiss him again, Ryou,” Malik ordered. 

Ryou obeyed with a huge grin on his face. Bakura tugged at Ryou’s hair in return, making Ryou squeal between kisses. A soft huff of breath from the computer made them glance at the screen. Malik’s cock was hard and glistening with lube as he stroked himself—his gaze fixed on them. Ryou followed suit, taking the lube and coating Bakura’s cock. Dousing Bakura’s fingers, Ryou guided Bakura’s hand in between his legs. Huffing, Ryou relaxed as Bakura stretched him.

“ _Ah_.” Malik’s breath hitched as he rolled his palm around his cockhead. 

“I’m ready. Just let me...here.” Ryou faced the computer and impaled himself until he sat in Bakura’s lap.

Guiding Bakura’s hand to his dick, Ryou curled Bakura’s fingers around his shaft. He rocked Bakura’s cock back and forth, riding Bakura’s cock as they both stared at Malik on the computer screen. Bakura grunted. Ryou’s weight and tightness hugged Bakura’s cock, and each time Ryou shifted, currents of pleasure flowed through Bakura’s body. Ryou’s blizzard of white hair blocked Bakura’s vision. He brushed the strands over Ryou’s shoulder so he could watch Malik even as Malik watched them. Malik’s eyes were half-mast and unfocused. He muttered little encouraging phrases, sucking in quick breaths as he spoke. Ryou’s cock burned in Bakura’s hand. He didn’t think he’d ever tire of the _heat_ , and Ryou’s heat was all around him, driving him to bliss. 

“Next time—” Malik gasped. “I get my hands on you two—I’m going to fuck you senseless. I’m going to bury myself between each of you and never stop— _Gods_!” 

He was close. Bakura could feel a hint of Malik’s arousal in the back of his and Ryou’s shared mind-space. He didn’t need his connection, however, to know Ryou was on the edge. His cock throbbed as Bakura jerked it, and Ryou’s bobs grew wild and desperate, driving Bakura to the edge as well. 

“More! More! More! More!” Ryou screamed, slamming down on Bakura’s cock and bucking into his fist. 

“Careful, Ryou, you’re starting to sound as greedy as me.” Bakura purred into Ryou’s ear, quickening his strokes. 

Ryou reached behind him so he could tug at Bakura’s hair. Bakura’s body tingled from the sensation. He kept his eyes open as long as possible, but Malik was arching on the screen and calling out in ecstasy, and Ryou was riding Bakura’s lap for all he was worth. Bakura always wanted more, and more, and more, but as they screamed in union it was _enough_ and Bakura’s orgasm tore through him. He held his breath. His entire body spasmed. Time stopped. 

“I needed that,” Malik muttered, sleepy once they’d all finished. 

“I wish we could hold you.” Ryou slipped off of Bakura’s lap, found a comfortable spot on the bed, and touched the computer screen. 

“I know.” Malik reached out as well.

“We have a little time before the spell wears off.” Bakura balanced the computer on his chest, so they both could see the screen. Ryou cuddled beside him. 

“Let’s keep talking until we fall asleep.” Malik slipped into his own bed, surrounding himself with bright yellow silk sheets. 

“Damn, Malik. Trying to summon Ra with your bedding?” Bakura asked. 

“Fuck you. I like colors. You ever try living underground for over a decade? It’s dull.” 

“I’ll wrap you up in my cloak one day.” Bakura winked. 

“I’d like that.” Malik gave him a sleepy stare. 

“Don’t worry.” Bakura poked Ryou. “It’s big enough to fit both of you.” 

“Good.” Ryou glanced on the floor. “Your clothes are crumpled on the floor, but they’re translucent like you. It’s really cool when you think about it.” 

“You would think so, horror freak.” 

“I like horror, too.” Malik grinned. “It’s why I named my gang The Ghouls.” 

“Hey Malik.” Ryou fluttered his lashes. 

“What is it?” 

“How about for our second date we go see a horror movie?” 

“I’d love to.” Malik winked. 

“It better have a good vengeance plot.” Bakura snorted, but his stomach tightened a little at the thought of a second date—another thing they were giving him to look forward to. 

Bakura’s lids settled low on his eyes. He’d slept after sex with Zorc before, but it’d always been because he felt drained in the Ring. This was different. He was sleepy, but in a comfortable, cozy way he’d never known with the demon. His breathing slowed. They talked about horror movies and motorcycles in languid, dreamy voices. All of them wanted to sleep, but none of them wanted to say goodbye. 

Ryou whimpered, clutching his chest as a dark wave of energy washed over both of them. “Sorry, Malik...we should go.” 

“Yeah, Isis and Rishid will return soon.” Malik frowned. “I should get dressed.” 

“We’re not going to be able to talk after tonight.” Ryou’s expression crumpled. “This was our chance to see you before Zorc’s Shadow Game.” 

“I’m going to miss you so much.” Malik’s eyes grew glassy. He blinked, preventing the tears from spilling. “I’ve gotten used to our calls and texts. It’ll be lonely without you.” 

“We’ll be thinking about you,” Bakura said. “Zorc can break our hands so we can’t text. He can chew off our tongues so we can’t talk on the phone, but he can’t erase you. Your _ren_ is carved on our shared _ib_.” 

“Bakura.” The tears spilled over Malik’s cheek. He turned away. “When the fuck did you learn how to be romantic?” 

“You assholes taught me.” Bakura blinked, refusing to shed his own tears. 

“Well damn, we did an amazing job.” Malik whipped the drops from his face. “I’ll let you go.”

“We love you—” Bakura and Ryou blurted out at the same time.

Malik’s hand paused over his mousepad. He stared at them, more tears washing down his cheeks. “No matter how this ends. I love both of you.” 

Then the call was over and Ryou crumpled into Bakura’s arms and wept. He wept so loud, long, and sincerely, that when Zorc returned instead of punishing them for sealing him—he merely laughed. 

**Humans are so fragile. Look at how your emotions make you weak. Thief, I don’t know why you chose this pathetic, useless state when I gave you GODHOOD.**

_You. Were. Cold._

Bakura mouthed the words, not daring to say them out loud. He knew Ryou’s game now, and he appreciated how perfectly Ryou played. Weak? Ryou was far from it. He allowed his love for both Bakura and Malik to fill him to the brim, enough to weep in true pain at the thought of being separated from Malik, and in doing so, in enduring the pain of lovesickness, Ryou manipulated Zorc right into his trap. 

**You’ll wish for numbness in the end when the Shadows consume your souls. You disgust me. Enjoy your last night together...**

Bakura combed his fingers through Ryou’s hair to comfort him. Pride swelled in his chest. No, it was more than pride he felt for Ryou, more than even the hard-won respect Ryou had earned during their time together. Love. It was love. Love swelled in Bakura’s chest. He loved them so much he _hurt_. The tears trickling down Bakura’s face burned because love was _heat_. Bakura spent so long loathing anything which reminded him of fire, but in doing so—he had died, his ka as well as his ba. Only now did he understand: he shouldn’t fear the fire of his emotions, he should embrace them. 

“I miss him too,” Bakura confessed, wrapping his arms around Ryou as they cried themselves to sleep. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I take longer than a week to update this, y'all have permission to go into my ask box in tumblr and gently remind me that it's been a week. I have this story and two others completely done. I just literally don't understand time anymore and have literally no idea how long passes between updates.

“We’re done.Thank goodness.” Ryou smeared the sweat off of his brow with his forearm. 

Zorc hadn’t allowed them more than the bare minimum amount of rest since their stolen night with Malik and Ryou was exhausted. He collapsed into the chair beside the game board. His seat and the Egyptian diorama were raised high above the ground for the best view. Across from him rested an empty chair meant for the Pharaoh. Bakura’s spirit walked around the perimeter of the game set. His red cloak swayed with his movements, but his footsteps didn’t echo into the empty exhibit room. 

“Incredible work. This must be how it all looked to the gods. So tiny, no wonder they ignore our prayers.” 

“They say the gods help those who help themselves,” Ryou said.

“Perhaps.” Bakura glanced over his shoulder, locking gazes with Ryou. “Ryou. I love you.” 

“What’s wrong?” Ryou sat up. 

Bakura's words sounded like a goodbye. Before he could respond, Bakura vanished, and panic raced through Ryou. Zorc roared in laughter. 

**HE’S MINE!**

“What did you do!” Ryou yanked the Ring off his neck, grabbed the rim, and beat it against the side of the diorama border. “Give him back! We had a deal!” 

“ **You had your fun.** ” A mirror image of Ryou appeared in front of him, twisted and sinister. He almost looked like Bakura with red eyes and a dagger-shaped smirk, but he was the same height as Ryou and lacked any of Bakura’s mirth. “ **It’s time to reclaim what’s mine. The thief, the world, existence in this dimension and all others. Now put the Ring on like a good pet before I get angry.** ” 

Ryou glared at Zorc, the corner of his eye twitching. He always knew, even before he made the deal, Zorc would steal Bakura back for the game, but it didn’t lessen his fury. 

“I’m so tired!” Ryou hunched forward, holding the Ring with both hands as if struggling with what to do next. Ryou trembled. Role playing meant playing a role, and Ryou needed to stay in character for a little while longer. “I don’t know what to do…” 

“ **Ridiculous host.** ” Zorc cupped Ryou’s chin, lifting up his face. “ **There’s only one choice: submit.** ” 

Ryou did, if only a slight bit. His eyes grew vacant. With hypnotized-like motions, he slipped the Ring over his head and allowed Zorc control of his body. Fatigued as he was, it was a relief to crash onto his bed in his soulroom, burying his face into his pillow and remembering his first time with Malik and Bakura as he dropped into a heavy sleep. 

***

“Stop!” Yugi shouted at the hoodie-clad thief splashing down the street. They darted into an alley and Yugi raced after them. 

_Partner! Let me help!_ Yugi’s other half shouted from beside him. 

“No!” Yugi screamed out loud, finishing in his thoughts. _It was my duty to protect those cards_. 

Everything they went through in Battle City. Everything they did to acquire all the god cards. Yugi couldn’t believe he’d been so careless as to let a thief grab them as he slept. Yugi came out on the other end of the alley and onto the streets. There was no sign of the card-thief. 

“Dammit!” He stomped his foot into a puddle. 

Yugi scanned the road in each direction, mostly void of other people because of the rain, but didn’t see anyone running. A shriek of pure agony echoed from a different alley nearby. The sound drained the blood from Yugi’s face. His body jerked, as if to run away, but he forced himself _toward_ the scream. 

Yugi dashed down the other rain-drenched alley way. Lightning flicked above them, lighting up the narrow passageway. Yugi skidded to a stop. His body was burning from sprinting and gasping hard, but when he saw Bakura standing in the alley over the thief’s body Yugi felt cold and numb inside. 

“B-Bakura?” Yugi asked, sure it wasn’t Bakura at all. 

Bakura stooped low, snatching the cardbox from the thief’s stiff, unmoving grasp. He displayed the container, glaring at Yugi. 

“If we lost these cards we’d never find the Pharaoh’s memories! It’s _your job_ to keep them safe! Well Yugi?” 

“I—I know,” Yugi stuttered. 

“Feh...you’re so **careless** I can’t leave you alone for an **instant**! Here!” He tossed the box to Yugi. “Make sure they’re all there!” 

Yugi caught the box on reflex, but froze once he had it. Something...was wrong. Something was wrong with Bakura. Yugi saw he wore the Ring again, but it wasn’t only that. There was something...darker to his voice. Something subtle but utterly _not his friend._

“Well?”

“They’re all here.” Yugi snapped out of his trance and checked the cards, grateful they were back, but terrified at the person standing in front of him. The person who should have been—but wasn’t—his friend. 

“Every card collector on the Earth knows you won the god cards at Battle City!” Bakura continued to lecture him. “They’re the **rarest** cards Pegasus left to this world. You should have **known thieves** would come after them.” 

“Left to this world?” Yugi stared at the thing in front of him wearing his friend's body. 

“Oh haven’t you heard?” Bakura smirked. “He met an untimely end after his tournament.” 

“You killed him.” 

“Technically **my thief** killed him, but I’ve stored the rogue **away** for the time being. He was getting a little...impertinent.” 

“And what about Ryou? Did you hide his soul as well?” Yugi stepped forward, knuckles going white as he clenched the box in his hands. 

“Oh he’s here.” Bakura patted his chest. “Sleeping in his soul room like an enchanted princess. Too bad both his princes are too far away to save him.” 

“What did you do!” 

“Nothing he didn’t agree to.” Bakura chuckled. “He was, after all, the one who stole **this** from **you**.” Bakura jangled the Ring, using it to taunt Yugi. 

“No.” Yugi shook his head. “Bakura wouldn’t _do_ that!” 

“You’re a fool if you trust **him**.” Bakura shrugged. “He’s been playing you from the beginning.” 

“You’re lying!” 

“Why don’t you ask that meddlesome tombkeeper who helped him with all his schemes in Battle City?” 

Yugi paused, remembering Malik giving Yugi the Ring. How had he gotten it? And didn’t Malik integrate himself into their group by delivering Bakura to Jounouchi and Anzu? 

_He has to be lying!_ Yugi screamed in his thoughts. 

_I don’t know, Partner._ Yugi’s other heart replied. _A lot of loose ends get tied up if Ryou_ was _working with the Spirit of the Ring this entire time._

“I have one last gift for you.” Bakura held up the Eye, licking it. 

Yugi shuddered, but caught the Item when Bakura threw it. 

“You really did kill Pegasus.” Yugi stared at the Eye in his hand. His gaze flicked to the lifeless body at Bakura’s feet. “And him.” 

“It’s your destiny to gather the **Items** and restore the Pharaoh’s memories. You didn’t have what it took to get the Eye. You should be **thanking me**.” 

“I don’t know what you have planned.” Yugi curled his fingers around the Eye. “But whatever it is—bring it! We’ve beaten you before and we’ll beat you again!” 

“Ho-ho! Such a fierce look in your eyes **little Yugi**. I can’t wait for our **destined** rematch.” 

Bakura turned, black coat tails following him like a living shadow as he disappeared into the rainy night. 

***

“Come on. Come on. Come on.” Malik growled at the computer screen as it rang. It was his third attempt to call Yugi. “Pick up, dammit.” 

“Hello?” Yugi’s confused face appeared on the monitor. 

“Finally!” Malik quit pacing and dropped into his computer chair. “I was afraid you wouldn’t answer.” 

“Malik? How did you get my Skype?” 

“Ryou. Listen, there isn’t much time—”

“Speaking of Ryou,” Yugi interrupted, but Malik saw it wasn’t exactly Yugi. “We bumped into him just moments ago.” 

“No, you didn’t.” Malik frowned. “What you saw was the evil intelligence which lingers in all the Items, even yours, Pharaoh. You saw Zorc Necrophades using Ryou like a marionette.” 

“You seem to know a lot.” The Pharaoh crossed his arms over his chest. “What are your connections to Zorc?” 

“I don’t like what you’re implying. Might I remind you how much I _hate_ _the dark_? Do you honestly think I’d work with something like Necrophades? Give me _some_ credit.”

“And what about Ryou? When we spoke to Zorc he suggested Ryou was a willing hostage. He also wanted us to ask _you_ who helped you during Battle City. Well? Was it the Spirit of the Ring, or Ryou?” 

“You’re an arrogant prick. Everything Ryou’s ever done was to protect you and your friends. Don’t you dare sit there and _suspect_ him of anything. _Yes_. He helped me in Battle City—so did the Spirit of the Ring. I didn’t give them much of a choice.” Malik sat back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest and staring away from the computer. “You don’t even know how much Ryou suffered doing his best to save the rest of you, and despite it being my fault, he still reached out to me—honestly caring—and when my alter took over, Ryou’s the one who brought both sides of myself together. Yes, we conspired together. Yes, he’s working with Zorc now, but he’s doing it to help _you_ as well, and now it’s your turn to help _him_ with something. I’m calling with a request Ryou gave me before Zorc took over.” 

“What is it?” The Pharaoh asked. 

“Simple. Zorc’s going to trap you in a Shadow Game, but no matter what happens— _don’t let Bakura die_.” 

“Is Zorc going to use Bakura as a hostage?”

“Don’t misunderstand me.” Malik shook his head. “I don’t mean Ryou Bakura. He can take care of himself. It’s the Thief King—the spirit trapped in the Ring—who Ryou wants to save…” Malik stared into the camera. “Who we both want to save, but we can’t save him if you destroy his soul during your Shadow Game.” 

“As long as he doesn’t attack us—”

“Yes. Precisely,” Malik interrupted. “As long as he’s friendly and nice to _you_ you’ll be happy to spare him. Which is a problem, because he’s going to try and kill you the entire time. See our concern?” 

“What do you want me to do? Bare my throat for him to cut? Seems convenient for Zorc that you’re begging us to spare someone who’s going to do their best to kill us.” 

_Fuck this bitch! Throw your fucking monitor through the fucking window! If I have to look at his smug expression for one more minute I’m gonna punch the screen, and I don’t want to hurt our hand!_

“Listen—” Malik leaned forward. He slammed his palms against his desk, sharing his other half’s anger. “I’m not _begging_ for a damn thing. If it came to me grovelling before you or sitting back and watching the world end—I’d have to consider my options. All I’m doing is relaying a message.” 

“It’s been received,” The Pharaoh said. 

“You’re such a dick!” Malik smacked his hand against the computer screen _wishing_ he was slapping the Pharaoh. 

“Careful, Malik, I think your darker half is getting close to the surface.” The Pharaoh lifted an eyebrow at Malik’s outburst. 

“I want to talk to Yugi.” Malik dug his nails into the desk, forcing himself to stay calm enough to achieve his goal—saving Bakura. 

“I’m right here?” The Pharaoh blinked his eyes, as if he didn’t understand.

“ _Not you_. Yugi. I know the difference.”

“He can hear you. Anything you have to say, you can say to both of us.” 

“I didn’t tell you to go to your soul room and plug your ears. I said I wanted to talk to Yugi. Directly, not through you.” 

The Pharaoh opened his mouth to speak, but then paused as if listening to an imaginary voice. He nodded his head and closed his eyes. Yugi opened them again, giving Malik a wary look. 

“Hi, Malik.” 

“Ryou’s your friend,” Malik said. 

“I know, but...he doesn’t seem to be a very honest one.” 

“Maybe not now. I’m sure when this is all over he’ll be happy to explain everything. It’s hard to be honest when there’s a demon listening in to not only your conversations, but your thoughts, and doing anything it can to destroy everything you care about.”

“I suppose that’s true.” Yugi sighed. 

“I’m going to therapy.” Malik dropped all the way into his chair, picking at his nails. 

“Oh. Um. That’s...good?” Yugi blinked, unsure of how to respond. 

“You heard about my childhood from my sister, yeah?” 

“Yeah.” Yugi nodded his head, sympathetic. 

“I’m not trying to justify my past actions.” Malik kept eye contact with Yugi, praying to all the gods Yugi would understand (truly understand) what Malik was saying. “I know there’s a lot to atone for, and therapy is my way of preparing myself—laying the foundation to becoming a better person, you know?” 

“I’m really glad, Malik.” Yugi frowned. “I wish you the best.” 

“When I was little, we had to read sacred texts about the Pharaoh and how he sacrificed himself to seal a great darkness—which was Zorc, the same darkness trying to consume the world now—but there was someone else in the texts, a thief. He was like the boogie man who would steal us away at night if we were bad. Ha! I always _wished_ he’d steal me away. He represented everything I couldn’t have as a tombkeeper; freedom, wealth, power, vengeance.” 

“That makes sense, I guess,” Yugi muttered, still confused at Malik’s point. 

“Then I met this sarcastic, cocksure spirit using Ryou’s body. He talked a big game, but was shy when it came to kissing or an embrace. He’d been corrupted by Zorc, so much so I had to use a spell to seal the darkness out of his soul, and after that…” Malik raked his fingers through his hair, hugging himself. “You probably won’t believe me, but he reminds me of a sarcastic Ryou. He’s more gentle than you think, but he hides it under seven layers of emotional armor. Please try to understand. He’s the same as me. We didn’t break for no reason—there’s a reason. He flung himself to a demon because he had no one else. Can you imagine? Being so lonely, so desperate, you seek comfort from a dark god? Can you imagine? So what? You guys are going to murder him and then hi five each other for saving the world? Where’s the justice in that, Yugi? Where’s the _balance_?” 

“Malik, we’re not going to try and hurt anyone. From what you’ve said, Zorc’s the one who’s planning something. All we can do is our best.” 

“All we’re asking is your best. I know you can’t sacrifice the fate of the world,” Malik circled his finger in a mocking _whoo-hoo_ gesture. “But try not to sacrifice the pawns too quickly to win the game. Both Ryou and Bakura. Yugi, I already have to spend the rest of my life bearing the Pharaoh’s memories on my back. Don’t force me to bear the scars of their memories on my heart because they were lost to the Shadows.” 

“I’ll do what I can,” Yugi said in a soft voice. “I promise.”

“Thanks.” Malik hung up before the tears spilled.

 _Ryou’s smart_ , his other half whispered. _His plan will work._

***

_The way he disappeared in the middle of Battle City, I have trouble trusting him._

Yugi remained in control of his body after his call from Malik. His other half sat on the bed as they spoke. Their encounter with Ryou and call with Malik had Yugi concerned, and confused, about what he should believe. 

“Malik did give us Ra before he left, and the Rod and Ring.” 

_Didn’t really help to give us the Ring since Ryou stole it back the moment he could_. 

“At the very least, Malik seems to care about Ryou and the Spirit.” 

_But they’re working with Zorc._

“I know.” Yugi thought in silence for a moment. “Remember the first Shadow Game we played against Bakura? It was an RPG.” 

_I remember_. His other heart nodded. 

“Remember how Ryou joined our party? We had to damage Zorc and pull Ryou out. Afterward, his NPC helped us. Without Ryou, we would have all died. As it was, Ryou sacrificed himself to _make sure we didn’t_. When you think about it, Malik’s story matches up. He said everything Ryou did was to help us, and he suffered a lot because of it. Maybe Ryou doesn’t know a better way _to_ help since he’s connected to the Ring.” 

_Which wouldn’t have been a problem if he hadn't stolen it from us._

“But if he’s in love with the Spirit trapped within, of course he’d take it back.” 

_In love? Do you really think so? It’s more likely he’s being manipulated._

“I guess it’s possible, but Malik seemed to be love-struck as well, and I’m not sure _he’d_ fall for a little flattery.”

_He could be in on it. He had to stop his plans in Battle City because his other half took control, but maybe this is his second chance for vengeance._

“I don’t think so.” Yugi shook his head. 

_Really?_ His other heart tilted his head to the side. _Why not_? 

“The talk about therapy, mentioning wanting to atone, Malik was showing us a vulnerable side of himself, and he was doing it because he desperately wanted us to trust him.” 

_To manipulate us,_ his other heart insisted. 

“...You could be right. In any case, we need to get your memories back, and tomorrow is our opportunity. Let’s try to get some rest, I’m sure whatever trap Zorc has set will spring right before we figure out who you really are.” 

His partner nodded. Yugi moved to the bed, hiding beneath the blankets. His other half stood and strolled to the window. He stared out the glass pane. Moonlight bathed his hair and face silver. He was translucent, so some of the light managed to spill through him and splash on the floor. Yugi smiled at the sight. He’d do anything to help his other heart, but he was also determined to do everything he could to help Ryou as well. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Important: you can pop a dislocated shoulder back into place, but you can't just run around like you're not hurt afterward. 
> 
> On that note, I guess disclaimer for a dislocated shoulder (and broken ribs).

He opened his eyes and started at the large room with high columns. Men and women draped in finely woven cloth surrounded him. 

“Wh-where…?” His question evaporated from his lips as he took in the vastness of the area, and the throne beneath him. 

“ _Ahem.”_ A man beside him cleared his throat. “My Pharaoh, at all times you must act with the dignity as befits the living representation of the gods. To fall asleep on the throne…” he shook his head. “The shame of it.” 

“Grandpa?” He blinked at the man beside him. He looked exactly like Yugi’s grandfather except for his strange clothes. Glancing down, the Spirit of the Puzzle noticed he was dressed even more richly than the others. 

“I have served as vizier of this court for many years, but I would appreciate it if you continued to call me Siamun, my Pharaoh.” 

_Siamun?_

_What’s going on?_

_And why am I dressed like this?_

_Did he call me Pharaoh?_

_Is this a dream?_

_Or could it be…?_

A flash of memory returned. He’d been with Yugi, as always, and they’d held the god cards up to the stone slab. The last thing he remembered was the engraved image of the Puzzle glowing, and then a rushing descent. 

_These must be my lost memories…_

The spirit thought to himself. He did his best to blend into a world he’d forgotten thousands of years ago, allowing court to start and hoping his priests would do most of the work on his behalf. He was amazed to see several people he recognized. Besides Grandpa, he also saw a woman who resembled Isis of the tomb keepers. The greatest shock, however, was a young priest who had the exact same features and mannerisms of Seto Kaiba. He watched in fascination as they used the Items together to pull out the dark ka of a tomb thief and sealed it into a stone slab. He remembered Pegasus referring to such slabs as the inspiration for duel monster cards. 

No sooner had they dragged the criminal away with a sentence of seven years hard labor did another guard rush in gasping for breath and screaming of an intruder. Behind him waltzed in a man in a billowing, scarlet robe. His body and clothing glittered in golden relics and he carried a sack brimming with additional treasure. 

He also dragged a mummified body behind him on a rope leash. 

He called himself Bakura, the King of Thieves, but he obviously wasn’t Yugi’s polite and quiet friend, Ryou Bakura, but neither was he the Spirit of the Ring who dueled against them in Battle City. He was cocky and obnoxious as ever, but there was something the Pharaoh couldn’t put his finger on that had changed within him…

_Then I met this sarcastic, cocksure spirit using Ryou’s body. He talked a big game, but was shy when it came to kissing or an embrace. He’d been corrupted by Zorc, so much so I had to use a spell to seal the darkness out of his soul…_

The Pharaoh assumed this was the true spirit of the person Ryou and Malik wanted to protect. 

_Zorc’s going to trap you in a Shadow Game. No matter what happens—don’t let Bakura die._

His conversation with Malik from the night before replayed in the Pharaoh’s mind. Had the Shadow Game already begun? Was Yugi alone and playing while the Pharaoh sat and watched his memories play out, or had Zorc figured out a way to _incorporate_ the two events into one? The Pharaoh frowned as Bakura battled all six priests at once. Another thought filtered into the Pharaoh's thoughts. 

“If his ka is a god-spirit—”

“It’s impossible!” Siamun shouted. “A good spirit couldn’t possibly live in the heart of an evil thief!” 

At this, Bakura tossed his head back. His laughter peeled through the room, echoing around the vaulted ceiling. 

“What is evil? If I’m loyal to what _you_ say is right, is that all it takes to make me ‘good’?” 

The Pharaoh couldn’t stop thinking about Bakura’s words as the fight continued. Working together, the other priests managed to lock Diabound into a slab, but the instant his image appeared in the stone—the slab shattered, and Diabound was free. Bakura continued to laugh. He held out his hand, beckoning. 

“Are you the sort of King to sit back while his men die defending him? Challenge me directly! If you win you can have my head, and if I win—I’ll take your life, riches, and Items!” 

“Bakura! Why do you want the Items?” The Pharaoh called across the room, trying to puzzle out what exactly was different from this thief than the Spirit of the Ring when they sounded and acted almost the same, but he didn’t have a chance to figure it out. 

“Why do I want the Items? Why don’t you ask _him_?” 

Bakura stomped on the mummy beside him. He tugged on the leash, bringing up the cadaver’s head like a puppeteer pulling the strings of his marionettes. The entire throne room grew sickly quiet. The only sounds were the gasps and mutters of _Pharaoh Akhenamkhanen._

“Siamun?” The Pharaoh asked in a quiet voice as a nauseating realization sank into his guts. “Is...that…?” 

“Yes,” Siamun matched his volume and tone. “That is your father.” 

Everything blurred. He heard Bakura shouting about Akhenamkhanen creating the Items for power, and Siamun insisting Akhenamkhanen was a kind ruler, but all their words swirled in the Pharaoh’s head. A single image from the past blossomed in his mind’s eye. A man holding his hand. Yes. His father had a kind face. Siamun couldn’t have been lying. 

The Pharaoh marched across the room, shoved Bakura to the floor, and cradled his father in his arms, trying to remember more than merely his face. Another battle broke out in the throne room, and the Pharaoh summoned Slifer to help fight. Slifer and Diabound were too huge and powerful to remain in the castle, and their battle spilled into the streets of the city when Bakura retreated. They tore through the city, blasting each other and sending entire buildings crumbling to the ground. 

“Ha!” Bakura spat, racing down the streets on horseback. “Let’s make this city as broken and damaged as Kul Elna! What do you say, Pharaoh? Let’s watch it burn together!” 

Diabound targeted a street full of houses. The Pharaoh saw a mother crouch above her child in the archway of their home while other citizens raced down the streets, feeling for their lives. 

“Bakura! Stop!” The Pharaoh shrieked.

The Pharaoh called Obelisk, using the enormous god to shelter the houses from Diabound’s blow. Once the people were safe, he switched Obelisk out for Slifer once more, driving Bakura further and further away from the town limits as they fought. In the confusion of battle, the Pharaoh lost sight of his other priests. It took all his strength and concentration to corral Bakura to the edge of a cliff where neither of them could damage the city. 

“You’re looking low on ba, Pharaoh!” Bakura cackled into the overcast sky. A breeze made his robs sway. “How much longer until I get to rip that Puzzle from your broken neck?” 

“Bastard!” The Pharaoh leapt off his horse, drawing his sword and charging Bakura. 

“Finally found some guts? Good!” Bakura dismounted, a dagger in each hand.

They clashed, metal scrapping as Bakura blocked the Pharaoh’s blow. He pummeled the Pharaoh with several consecutive attacks. The Pharaoh blocked several blows, but had to leap out of the way to avoid a final attack. 

“Other me!” A voice echoed from the path below them. 

“Yugi?” the Pharaoh glanced over his shoulder, but Bakura used the opportunity to slash at him. 

The Pharaoh cried out as one of the two daggers cut his cheek. He jerked backward, catching his foot on the side of a rock and crashed to the ground. 

“Don’t worry—” Yugi crashed beside the Pharaoh. 

“—We’re here.” Anzu finished the sentence. 

Looking up, he saw Yugi, Anzu, Jounouchi, and Honda surrounded him. 

“Everyone. You found me.” The Pharaoh smiled when he saw his friends. 

He was exhausted from using the gods, and physically worn from battle, but knowing the others were all right took a great deal of pressure off his mind. 

“Everyone? Are you hallucinating? There’s no one here but you...and me.” Bakura sneered, staring down at the Pharaoh with both daggers in hand. “Unless you’re praying to the gods before I cut your throat.” 

“You can’t see them?” The Pharaoh frowned. 

“Is that Bakura?” Honda asked at the same time. 

“No way. He looks nothing like Bakura!” Jounouchi argued. 

“He’s the Thief King, right?” Yugi gazed down at his partner. “None of the NPCs in the game can see us. Other Me, you have to talk to him.”

The Pharaoh’s jaw tightened. “He tried to kill people in the city to goad me! He dragged my father’s body—”

“Wow, you’re just going to have an entire conversation with yourself in the middle of battle aren’t you? Fucking rude.” Bakura rolled his eyes, pacing in frustration. 

“We promised Malik. We promised _Ryou_ ,” Yugi insisted. “Remember what Malik said at Battle City? About grief? About there being a reason for his actions?”

“If Malik and Ryou are on his side—then they’re evil as well,” the Pharaoh argued, too lost in his own pain to listen. 

“Oh, are you on about the evil talk again?” Bakura flipped his knives in the air and caught them by the handles. “Really, you need some better material at this point. Good? Evil? I already told you it’s all a matter of perspective. To you, this is about to be your murder. To me, this is years of suffering finally being redressed. Evil has nothing to do with it. It’s everyone for themselves trying to survive a world that hates the living.” 

“Other Me, _please_ ,” Yugi insisted. 

“Why the fuck am I even trying to explain this to a crazy king who talks to himself?” Bakura flipped his knife a final time and turned toward the Pharaoh. “I’ll just put you out of your misery and save you the trouble of hearing voices.” 

“Bakura! Stop!” The Pharaoh shouted, for Yugi’s sake more than Bakura’s. “I’m not hearing voices. You can’t see them because you’re part of the game.” 

“Only game we’re playing is how many stabs does it take before the Pharaoh shuts his fucking mouth!” Bakura snarled. 

“Do you even remember Ryou?” He asked. 

“Who?” 

“You don’t remember anything outside the game, do you?” The Pharaoh frowned. “Bakura, you have to believe me. Zorc has Ryou! We should find a way to fight _him_ —not each other!” 

“Zorc…” Bakura muttered, lowering his arms. “I’ve read that name before. In the shrine. He’s the one I need to make a pact with in order to lead the spirits of my village to the afterlife.” 

“The...spirits?” The Pharaoh asked. 

“Careful, this could be one of his tricks,” Honda warned. 

“I don’t think so.” Yugi shook his head. “Malik mentioned something about Bakura having to watch people die.” 

“Weren’t you listening?” Bakura grabbed the Puzzle, jerking it off of the Pharaoh’s neck and smacking his forehead with it several times. He held it by the rope, dangling it above the Pharaoh’s face. “These...were made...by _melting_...everyone in my village. Except me.” Bakura slipped the Item around his own neck. “And because they’re all that’s left of my family, these belong to me, Pharaoh, and after I kill you I’m killing your priests and taking what’s mine.” 

“Did he say—” Anzu gasped, but she was interrupted by Bakura and the Pharaoh’s conversation. 

“What about Ryou?” The Pharaoh balled his hands into fists. “Are you going to let Zorc _have him_? Malik made it seem like you actually cared. Were you lying to them!” 

“I have no idea who you’re talking about.” Bakura snorted. 

“Ryou Bakura! Your host! The one who has the Ring!” 

“Mahad has the Ring. We both know that. Whatever trick you’re trying to distract me and prolong your life isn’t going to save you, so give it up already.” 

“He doesn’t realize these are memories.” Anzu squeezed the Pharaoh’s bicep. “You need to run before he hurts you.” 

“Bakura, this isn’t real. You’re trapped in a Shadow Game.” the Pharaoh spoke even as his friends helped him to his feet so he could run, but he stepped closer instead. 

“Enough babbling! It's time for you to die!” Bakura lunged at him.

The Pharaoh's friends all screamed for him to run, but he wasn't afraid. He grabbed Bakura, trying to wrestle the daggers from the thief's hands. If he could unarm him, perhaps he could convince Bakura they were in a Shadow Game and get him to fight with them to beat Zorc. 

The Pharaoh didn't realize how close they rolled to the edge of the cliff until his stomach dropped and he and the thief plummeted into the chasm below. The Pharaoh reached out, scraping his nails against the dirt cliff as he sank. With a _thud_ , the Pharaoh struck the ground, unconscious.

***

Bakura groaned and fought to open his eyes. A small campfire crackled beside him. The inner, cream lining of his robe was torn for the bandages wrapped around his chest. Bakura hissed when he failed to push himself up to sitting.

“Don't move. I think you have a broken rib.” The Pharaoh sat beside him, clutching a dislocated shoulder.” 

“Idiot. You should have killed me while I was unconscious,” Bakura snarled. 

“I wanted to, but Yugi promised Ryou and Malik we'd try to make sure you survived the game,” the Pharaoh muttered, but he sounded as if his thoughts were miles away. “I trust my partner. If he wants me to spare you, then I’ll do my best.” 

“There you go spouting nonsense again.” Bakura snorted. He lay on the hard, stone floor of a cave because he didn't have much choice, but his fingers twitched to wrap around the Pharaoh’s throat.

“None of this is real, Bakura. These are my 3,000 year old lost memories being played out in a Shadow Game.”

“Yuh-huh. Gee, how obvious. Why didn’t I realize that sooner?” A bitter snort sent a jolt through Bakura’s ribs. “Egotistical bastard, you _would_ think the world is all in your head.” 

“Damnit, listen to me! Maybe as the Thief King you were alone, but now you have people who care about you and will be upset if anything happens to you! Stop acting like a fool!”

The Pharaoh’s tone was so convincing that Bakura was convinced he actually believed the nonsense he spouted. Bakura barked laughter. Pain stabbed through his side and he clutched at his right ribs. 

“Ow, fuck.”

“Told you not to move,” The Pharaoh grumbled. 

“You also told me I have imaginary friends.” 

“Lovers. And they’re not imaginary.”

“Lovers? Ha! Even better, I guess.” Bakura snorted. 

“How is it better?” The Pharaoh asked. 

“Fuck if I know. I’ve never had either, and none of it is real anyway, so it doesn’t matter.” Bakura clenched his jaw. 

He couldn't afford to let the Pharaoh play a mind game on him. He’d clearly underestimated how sadistic the Pharaoh was. He’d expected he’d fight back, draw blood, maybe even burn Bakura with magic, but never in all his planning had he expected such deep, psychological attacks. The charade was disturbing enough, but sweetened it with tales of people who cared about Bakura and relied on him to give up his vengeance for the only real family he ever had? That was low, even by the royal court’s standards. 

“This is useless. There’s no talking reason to you. What a waste.” The Pharaoh hooked his good arm around his knees, curling into a ball. “What did Malik expect me to do? Lock you in a box so you wouldn’t get either of us into trouble? And dammit, what’s Zorc planning? Hindsight is 20/20, but we can’t use it to our advantage when I don’t actually remember what happened despite these being my memories, and _you_ don’t even realize we’re playing a freaking Shadow Game.” 

“So you’re convinced this is all a giant sennett board?” Bakura turned his head. He wasn’t sure why he was humoring the Pharaoh, perhaps to see how far he’d go with the ruse. 

“More or less.” 

“Who’s moving the pieces?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“If this is a game, someone has to be _controlling it_. Where? How? I don’t see giant hands swooping from the sky to manipulate the pieces.” 

“I’m sure Zorc’s controlling the game with Shadow Magic. If only there were a way to _fight_ _him_.”

“Easy enough.” Bakura managed to brace himself against the wall so he could sit up. “If you place on the Items in the slab, you’ll summon him. Then you can fight him.” Bakura figured two could play a game. And if the Pharaoh wanted to tear Bakura’s mind down, then he’d simply manipulate the Pharaoh right back. 

“Bakura, were you really gathering the Items to try and lead the spirits of your family to the afterlife?” 

“Yes, and use the power to take over this miserable excuse for a kingdom! I couldn’t possibly do a worse job running things than _you_.” The bitterness burned the back of Bakura’s throat as he spoke. 

“Was my rule so bad?” The Pharaoh clutched his shoulder again. “I wish I could remember.” 

“You don’t have to remember a damn thing. Go visit one of those labor camps where you sentence criminals to die and listen to their stories. Again, and again, and again, it’s the same. Starving men and women forced into desperate actions getting caught and punished by the system that created their problems.” Bakura growled. “Pathetic. This entire world’s pathetic.” 

“If I asked my court to relinquish their Items and willingly allowed you to return them to the slab, would you help me fight Zorc?” 

“Oh sure!” Bakura laughed, but the pain in his ribs forced him to stop and clutch his side again.

“I’m serious.” The Pharaoh struggled to his feet, huffing in pain. “I don’t remember who I was—but I know who I am now, and if the Items were made at the cost of other people’s souls, then it doesn’t matter if my father had good or selfish intentions. The only thing that matters is saving them, defeating Zorc, and making sure Yugi, Ryou, and the others are safe.” 

“Please stop making me laugh. It hurts like a bitch.” 

“Hmm? Do you normally say please to people?” The Pharaoh tilted his head. 

Bakura’s eyes widened. He didn’t realize he’d said it until the Pharaoh called him out for it. 

“You know, Ryou’s extremely polite. He’s says please and thank you often. Think he’s rubbing off on you despite your lost memories?” 

Bakura examined the Pharaoh’s face but didn’t see any deception in his eyes. He forced himself to his feet as well, walking toward the Pharaoh. The Pharaoh scuffled backward until he pressed against the rock wall. Bakura smirked, relishing the concern shining in the Pharaoh’s gaze. He noticed the Puzzle around the Pharaoh’s neck again—he must have stolen it back while bandaging Bakura. Clenching his teeth, Bakura ignored the Item, grabbed the Pharaoh’s arm, and pushed his shoulder into place. The scream was beautiful. 

“Should feel better in a few weeks. For now…” Bakura ripped some more of the cream lining of his cloak to make a sling. 

“Thank you.” The Pharaoh winced, but didn’t complain. 

“I still think you’re crazy, but if you’re dumb enough to help me, then why not play along with your delusions?’ 

“Bakura, I know it’s the villain’s job to double cross the hero at the last second, but definitely _don’t do that_. The entire world will be—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, what the hell makes you think _you’re_ the hero in this? From where I’m standing, _you’re the villain_!” 

“But I’m trying to help people!” 

“Me too—”

“And yourself, admit it.” 

“And your actions aren’t also good for you? Hmmm? What else is on the line in this game? If you really can’t remember anything, I bet you’re doing this to get those memories back.” 

The Pharaoh’s face fell, and Bakura knew he was right. It forced him to pause...he wasn’t sure if he believed the Pharaoh about the Shadow Game they were supposed to be playing, but he was starting to believe that the Pharaoh honestly believed it. Perhaps they were delusions instead of manipulation? 

Strange, that the Pharaoh would imagine friends for Bakura. 

***

The inflammation burned through the Pharaoh’s shoulder. It felt better than before Bakura shoved it in place, but the arm was all but useless in its makeshift sling. 

“So we’re injured, miles from the city, and have no transportation. Any ideas how we’re going to get the Items?” Bakura raised an eyebrow. 

“I’ll summon Ra. He’ll bring the others to us.” 

“Hell no. If they see me—”

“I’ll explain you’re helping me and—”

“You don’t get it. Some of them _already know the truth_. Do you think they’ll hand over the Items without a fight? Akhenaden sure won’t.” 

“How would we even get the Eye out…” The Pharaoh frowned. 

Bakura smirked and the Pharaoh shook his head. 

“No. No murder. I’m not doing everything I can to save _you_ to kill other people instead.” 

“Ha! Save _me_? From what? 

“Zorc! I already told you—we’re both trapped here until we defeat him.” The Pharaoh was more than sick of explaining the same things over and over. 

“Whatever. Point is, if there was justice in your kingdom, you’d have already executed Akhenaden for massacring an entire village.” 

He didn’t want to admit it, but Bakura had a point. If Akhenaden knowingly caused a massacre, even with a good reason for creating the Items, he needed to take responsibility and face justice for it. Then again, the Pharaoh hadn’t heard Akhenaden’s side. He rubbed his temples, wishing he remembered how things panned out the first time so he could navigate the situation more aptly. 

“I’ll ask him—”

“Yeah? Ask him? Have a friendly chit-chat? You expect a guy who kills women and children to be honest about it?” 

“Well, I can’t take _your word_ at face value,” the Pharaoh snapped. “You’ve done nothing but lie since I’ve known you!” 

“Fuck. You.” Bakura snarled. “But I expected nothing more. You don’t have to take my word for it—I can show you once we get to Kul Elna. The Spirits haunting the village are proof on their own.” 

“Hmm…” The Pharaoh pursed his lips in thought. “Maybe it would be best if I saw it on my own first. Then, if anyone in my court isn’t trustworthy, I can catch them in the lie instead of relying on different people’s versions of the truth.” 

“ _Hmph_.” Bakura snorted, but his face softened. “You’re really willing to go?” 

“I know this could be a trap.” The Pharaoh sighed. “From either you, Zorc, or both, but if there’s any chance you’re being honest, then it’s my responsibility as the Pharaoh to discover the truth.” 

“Fine.” Bakura marched toward the cave’s exit. “Stay here. I’ll go steal some horses.” 

“What? No! Don’t steal them!” 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll just wander around until the magical horse spirit arrives and hands me free horses.” 

“Here.” The Pharaoh pulled a ring off one of his fingers and tossed it to Bakura. “That should cover a horse. We’ll share.” 

“I don’t want to _share_.” Bakura wrinkled his face. 

“Grow up and go buy the damn horse.” 

“Give me something else so I can buy food and supplies too.” 

“Fine.” The Pharaoh sighed, tossing Bakura a bracelet. “But you better _buy the things_. Don’t pocket the jewelry and steal the stuff anyway.” 

Bakura cackled; it didn’t help settle the Pharaoh’s nerves. He hugged himself with his good arm and slid down to the cave floor near the fire. Thinking to himself, the Pharaoh decided to give Bakura one day to return with a horse. If he took the Pharaoh’s jewelry and ran, the Pharaoh would go to his original plan of using Ra as a beacon to draw the others to him. At the very least he’d be rescued and could plan what to do next, but he was hoping Bakura would return. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Having a one-shot almost ready for Deathshipping week, and a tendershipping fic for the ygo bang, I realized I need to try and speed up these chapters a little bit so I don't get train wrecked with too much stuff to post. So have another chapter! 
> 
> Favorite part of this chapter: Ryou asking Atem is he's stupid while having an Evil Dead homage moment lol

Bakura rode back to the cave with a sack of supplies for their journey. He spent the time thinking about how royally unhinged his plans had gone. He should have bashed the Pharaoh’s skull against a rock, but… something was off, and Bakura was beginning to think it was more than a mad Pharaoh muttering about shadow games. Bakura trusted his gut, and his gut said he’d been through this before _only nothing was going the way it should._ Was this a game replaying the past? And if so was something trying to use Bakura as the pawn? 

The idea infuriated him. 

As if his thoughts summoned it, a flash of white drew Bakura’s eye. He pulled on his horse's reins as something floated toward him. Bakura narrowed his gaze. 

“You don’t look like any spirit I’ve ever seen before.” 

“I’m more of a **God** than a spirit.” The man’s long white hair flowed around him in an invisible wind. 

He settled on the horse behind Bakura, smirking. Bakura frowned at the man’s clothes. White hair and even skin he’d seen before, but the cloth stitched around his skin looked strange. It was too fitted, almost fake looking compared to what Bakura wore. 

“God of what?” Bakura snorted. 

“Your heart’s desire. Revenge.” The creature pulled the Millennium Ring from beneath his shirt and offered it to Bakura like a gift. 

“What’s the cost?” Bakura didn’t touch the gold, though his gaze locked onto the sight of it. 

“Oh, I’m not selling this. It’s yours. **Take It**.” 

“ _What cost_?” Bakura repeated. 

“Don’t you understand yet? I’m you. I’m the god you’re destined to become. And because I’m you, we want the same things—to return the Items to the **Tablet**. To open **The Door**.” 

“What happened to the mage who wielded the Ring?” 

The creature behind him shrugged, grinning wickedly. Bakura yanked the Ring from the spirit’s hands and dropped it into his supply bag. 

“What good will it do you in a sack? **Wear It**.” 

“So you must be Zorc.” Bakura ignored the order and kept the Ring out of sight. “I don’t know what the fuck’s going on, but I’m not doing a damn thing you say. I’ll deal with this my own way.” 

Bakura shoved the spirit off of his stallion and nudged the horse forward. They trotted through the sand toward the cave. Bakura was suddenly eager to see the Pharaoh again and ask a few questions. Chilly sweat drops prickled the fine hairs on the back of the thief’s neck. He prepared for an attack, reading to leap off his horse to avoid it. 

“I’m not giving you a choice, fool.” The spirit flew behind him quicker than any human could react. He wrapped the Ring’s chain around Bakura’s neck, tugging it and strangling Bakura as he whispered in the thief’s ear. **“YOU’RE MINE.”**

A stab of cold shot through Bakura. The emptiness was _familiar_. In that moment he suddenly believed everything the Pharaoh had said. Bakura struggled, but couldn’t fight the demon’s inhuman strength. Darkness filled Bakura’s vision.

He came to from the Pharaoh slapping his face over and over with his good hand. 

“Stop. What the fuck is wrong with you?” Bakura grabbed the Pharaoh’s wrist, glaring at him.

“Where did you get this? _Where_?” The Pharaoh’s voice rang, shrill and frail. 

He held the Ring with the hand in the sling. Bakura sucked in a shaky breath, glad the Pharaoh had taken it from him. The burns from Zorc strangling him still throbbed around his throat. Instead of answering, Bakura rubbed the abrasions. 

_“Where’s Mahad?_ ” The Pharaoh screamed. 

“He’s dead!” Bakura shouted in response, voice hoarse. 

“I should have never trusted you!” The Pharaoh wrenched his wrist free of Bakura’s hold and slapped him again. 

“Listen! A demon appeared and collared me with the damn thing! I didn’t fucking kill your priest, so slap me one more time and I’m going to twist your bad arm out of its socket!” Bakura snarled, gripping the Pharaoh’s good shoulder and shaking him. 

The Pharaoh started, his expression wary as he asked. “A demon?” 

“I’m pretty sure it was the Zorc you’ve been rambling about. You crazy bastard, I didn’t want to believe you but...I think I do now.” 

“What did he look like?” The Pharaoh asked. 

“Tall. White as the glare of sunlight on the sand dunes in the middle of the day. Weird clothes. He was...sharp. Cold. Dark.” Bakura realized his physical description had developed to abstract nonsense, but the Pharaoh’s eyes widened. 

“Yes. That’s him. He stole Ryou’s body.”

“Ryou…” Bakura repeated the word, wishing that it stirred something in him, but there was nothing. 

“You must have killed Mahad and stole the Ring in our original timeline. Your soul was trapped in it the same way my soul was trapped in the Puzzle.” The Pharaoh sighed. He held the Ring to his chest as if it were his lost friend. “We must be straying too far from actual events and he’s trying to force us on course again.” 

“I don’t give a fuck how things happened the first time. Keep that damn thing away from me.” Bakura scooted away from the Ring. “We’ll stick it in the Tablet when it’s time, but I don’t want to see it until then.” 

“No?” The Pharaoh tilted his head. “I would have thought you’d feel a connection to the Ring even without your memories? I can feel my link to the Puzzle—Bakura? Are you okay? You’re shaking?” 

Bakura hugged himself, shivering. He felt a connection all right, and he _hated it_. 

“Keep th-that fucking thing far _far_ away from me.” Bakura curled in on himself. 

“Okay. See? It’s gone.” The Pharaoh shoved it in the supply sack laying in the sand next to them. “Don’t worry. It’s gone.” 

The moment the Ring was out of sight, Bakura’s chest heaved with breath. He wouldn’t express his gratitude out loud, but he was relieved. Just the thought of the weight of the relic against his body was enough to twist Bakura’s stomach. The air seemed brighter without it. 

“How’d you find me, anyway?” Bakura changed the subject. 

“When you were gone for more than a day, I suspected you’d abandoned me, so I was going to try and get back to the palace. I found you passed out in the sand.” 

“The horse?” 

“He’s fine.” The Pharaoh pointed to an outcropping of rock behind him. “There’s a dry river bed over there. He’s cropping grass.” 

“Then let’s fetch him and get out of here before that demon finds us again.” 

***

The Pharaoh dozed as they rode. They’d spent three days—with little rest—travelling into the desert and toward the Valley of Kings. The Pharaoh’s cloak protected his body from the sun, but even with his natural complexion, his nose and cheeks were still sunburned. It was obvious that he’d spent too many days in the palace during his life as a prince. The wind seemed to howl, creeping into the Pharaoh’s dreams; he leaned a little closer to Bakura as if for protection. 

“Oi! Wake up!” Bakura elbowed the Pharaoh in the chest. “We’re here.” 

The Pharaoh jerked his head. He blinked his eyes, rubbing them with a fist to clear the grit from the corners of his eyes. He gazed around his surroundings, unsure of what to expect. 

“Oh no…” the Pharaoh’s fist dropped when he saw the burnt ruins in the distance. 

The closer they drew, the worse it looked. Only charred fondations and a few skeletons remained. 

“Those poor people,” the Pharaoh whispered. 

“They were the lucky ones. The rest—” Bakura twisted so he could tap the Puzzle laying against the Pharaoh’s chest. 

The Pharaoh’s heart was heavy as lead as he stared at the Puzzle. His mind reeled, wanting to deny what—more and more—seemed to be the truth about the Items. However, before he could give it enough thought, streamers of white rose from the burnt rubble. They swelled, becoming a hundred spirits circling around them and screaming. 

“I know! I know!” Bakura shouted at them. “But he’s here to learn the truth! We should at least let him see—fuck.” Bakura swore as the crowd of spirits closed in on them. 

“Bakura? What’s wrong?” 

“What’s wrong is they hate your fucking guts, Pharaoh,” Bakura growled under his breath. “My entire life their wails of retribution have sung me to sleep and woke me in the morning. This was the only comfort I found when sick and the only companionship when lonely.” 

“ _I want to make things right_ ,” the Pharaoh hissed at Bakura.

“Well convince _them_ ,” Bakura snapped in return. 

Yes, he understood that, but the question was how? Bakura kept the horse calm and in the center of the angry spirits, refusing to allow any of them to get too close. From the swirl of white shapes Ryou—No, Zorc, appeared. The spirits parted for him as if beholden to him. The Pharaoh gritted his teeth. The false Bakura only clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. 

“I didn’t give you permission to remove my gift, thief. Why did you do with it?” 

“Fuck you,” Bakura said in a dead-pan voice. 

Zorc tossed his head back and laughed into the open sky. He winked at Bakura, and it sent a shiver down the Pharaoh’s spine. Then his gaze shifted toward the Pharaoh, red eyes smoldering with loathing and making the Pharaoh’s legs shake even while mounted. 

“Hello Pharaoh.” 

“Leave Bakura alone and give us Ryou back you monster!” The Pharaoh commanded. 

“ _Tch_ , who are you to order **me**? Are your sins not even greater than my own? Listen to the agony around us. In fact, I think it’s time you truly understand these spirits’ pain... **mighty pharaoh**.” 

The entire cyclone of white rushed toward them, drowning the Pharaoh. He slipped from the horse, crashing to the sand below, and screamed. 

***

Their weight crushed the Pharaoh’s chest. He gasped, but couldn’t breath, as if his lungs were sealed away in a canopic jar with no access to the air. Above him, Zorc’s laughter stabbed through his thoughts, even through the unbearable pain of 99 souls pushing all their fear, hurt, anger, and hatred into his frail, human soul. 

Bakura crashed in the ground beside him, trying to futility shield him from the spirit’s rage. He shouted at them, begging them, but they ignored him. Unable to get through to the spirits, Bakura grabbed the Pharaoh’s shoulders and shook him. He cried out _Pharaoh_ without rest, trying to pull the Pharaoh out of the hell of despair and misery, but pain paralyzed the Pharaoh and he couldn’t respond. His heartbeat fluttered in his chest, skipping beats as the stress of the spirits continued to undo him. The Pharaoh’s sight dimmed. In his last moments, he couldn’t even blame the spirits for their hatred. His family started the killing and now the agony was swinging full circle. Despite his fading sight, a flash of light blinded the Pharaoh. Bakura was nudged aside and familiar arms wrapped around the Pharaoh.

“Mahad?” The Pharaoh whispered. 

“My King, you need to stand,” the spirit said. 

“Can’t...Bakura was right. This tragedy...is our fault.” 

“No, not yours, and not your father’s. He didn’t know, and when he discovered the truth, he fell ill and died from the grief.” 

A huff of air left the Pharaoh’s throat. He gestured, but his hand dropped, too heavy. 

“Pharaoh. If you let this crush you, as your father did, who will stop the demon from drowning the entire world in shadows? He already murdered me for the Ring. What about the other Priests? And Mana? And all the other villages who rely on you for protection? Who will protect them if you give in to this grief!” 

The Pharaoh’s good hand hand clenched in a fist. Mahad was right. No matter how much the guild crushed him, it was his responsibility to bear it and make sure _nothing else_ hurt his people. Light exploded around him, pushing the spirits away. Shaking, the Pharaoh stood to his feet. His stomach boiled and vomit spewed from his mouth. Bakura jumped out of the way to avoid the splash. The Pharaoh wiped the mess off of his lips and glared at Zorc who stood and toyed with the Ring he’d re-stolen as the Pharaoh withered on the ground. 

“Zorc, I’m not letting you win!” 

“Really? Let’s see about that.” Zorc lunged for Bakura. 

“Bakura!” The Pharaoh reached out with his good hand, but Zorc was quicker. 

Zorc wrapped the Ring over Bakura’s neck, using it as a choker and bringing Bakura to his knees. Bakura clenched his teeth, staring at the corrupted image of Ryou, and the Pharaoh was glad Bakura couldn’t remember Ryou because he didn’t have to see the way Zorc twisted Ryou’s image. 

“Let him go! He’s not working with you this time!” The Pharaoh shoved Zorc, but with one arm in a sling and his entire body weak from the rageful spirits, the Pharaoh didn’t have the power to budge Zorc. 

“He’s **MINE**.” Zorc snarled, his face twisted in possessive rage. “And he will **OBEY ME**.” 

Bakura slumped, trembling. He reminded the Pharaoh of a marionette with slack strings. The Pharaoh took a careful step backward. 

“Bakura, fight it! Fight the Ring! Fight Zorc! Don’t let him manipulate you. Please!” 

Bakura sprang to his feet, eyes blank but his lips curled into a smirk. He pulled a dagger from his tattered robe and slashed at the Pharaoh’s face. The Pharaoh backed away; Mahad’s spirit floated between him and the thief, acting as a shield. Sand blew in the air as they circled each other with the Pharaoh staying behind Mahad. 

“Give me the command, and I’ll deal with the thief!” Mahad aimed his staff at Bakura. 

“No.” The Pharaoh shook his head. “He’s being controlled. We need to figure out how to break Zorc’s hold on him!”

With a growl Bakura lunged at the Pharaoh. He slashed, throwing himself off balance with the force of his blade. The Pharaoh dodged. Bakura recovered and dove toward them again. Already exhausted, the Pharaoh wasn’t sure how long he could keep moving before Bakura got lucky with one of his attacks. 

“Bakura, please…” 

Bakura only laughed, slashing closer and closer. 

“I don’t want to hurt you, but if you don’t snap out of it, I’ll have no choice!”

“He can’t hear you!” Zorc laughed, watching the show with his arms crossed over his chest. “He’s my **puppet**.” 

“Bakura!” The Pharaoh stepped closer, grabbing Bakura’s wrist and trying to wrestle the knife out of his grasp.

“Pharaoh, it’s no good! The demon’s control is too strong! Please! I can’t act on my own, only your will can release my full powers!” Mahad floated close, body blocking as best he could, but the Pharaoh and Bakura were locked too closely as they fought. 

Bakura shoved the Pharaoh on the ground. The Pharaoh hit his bad shoulder and cried out in agony as fire licked the tips of his nerves. Bakura descended, knife arcing toward the Pharaoh’s heart. The Pharaoh called out. 

“Mahad!” The Pharaoh raised his good arm up to block the blow, pleading for Mahad’s spirit to save him. 

“Magic Blast!” Mahad pointed his staff at Bakura. A beam of energy streamed to Bakura’s chest, puncturing a hole through his torso. 

Blood erupted from Bakura’s mouth. His opal eyes grew glassy as he collapsed into the sand. Dead.

He was dead. 

“I’m sorry, Bakura. I had no choice.” The Pharaoh curled in on himself.

He failed, but he hadn’t known what else to do. 

*** 

“What? That’s it!” A voice cut through the air. “Are you fucking kidding me? You half-ass tried to wrench the knife away but when that doesn’t work you _kill him_? You had _one job_! Goddammit, I can’t trust you guys to help with anything!” 

“Huh?” The Pharaoh jerked, looking around. “Where am I?” 

“The museum,” Ryou said, at least he thought it was Ryou. 

Ryou used his scarred hand to clench his opposite wrist as if trying to prevent himself from grabbing the 20 sided die in front of him. The Pharaoh scanned his new surroundings. Between them stretched an enormous diorama of Egypt. It dawned on him that he’d been inside the game board all along, and Ryou’s shout had tore him out of the Shadow Game to the regular world.

“Ryou?”

“Yes. It’s me.” He frowned at his hand. “Mostly. Listen, I don’t have much time before I lose control again. Would you please—”

“What happened to Yugi and the others?” The Pharaoh jumped to his feet, slamming his hands on the table. 

“They’re fine. They’re looking for your name which you’ll need to beat Zorc, but if you could please come over here and—”

“But are they okay? How did they even get into the game? Why didn’t you ask us for help—”

“I’m asking you for help right now and you won’t let me finish a sentence! Bless it, how does Yugi deal with you?” Ryou shouted, gritting his teeth as sweat dripped down his face. “Now, if you would kindly shut up and grab one of these hour glasses for me, I’d very much appreciate it!” 

The Pharaoh hesitated a moment, afraid to go near Ryou. The circles beneath Ryou’s eyes were ink, and his breathing labored. The Pharaoh couldn’t decide if he should be suspicious or worried. However, there wasn’t much time, so he pushed aside his fears, ran along the length of the gaming table, grabbed the hour glass, and shuffled back a few steps. 

“Good. Thank you. Now flip it over and—” Ryou smacked his hand against the table when he tugged out of his hold. “—flip it for me. I’m going to rewind time for three turns. This time, please, don’t harm Bakura. The last of his soul is in this game, so if he dies his ba will be trapped in the Shadow Realm forever.” 

“But what can I do?” The Pharaoh shouted. “He’s under Zorc’s control, and if I die the Game’s lost and Zorc will resurrect himself.” 

“Take the Ring off his neck. Are you stupid?” Ryou winced, in blatant pain. 

“You don’t look so well, Ryou. Is there—” 

“I can take care of myself.” Ryou smacked his hand against the table again. “All you need to do is stall for time! Your priests are on their way, and once Yugi...finds... your name…” Ryou gasped. Tears mixed with the sweat rolling down his cheeks. “Please…please...just a little...more...time...”

With a soft gasp, Ryou disappeared, and a dagger-sharp smirk replaced the grimace on his face. 

“Well, the dormouse found a way to **escape** long enough to give you one more chance. No matter.” His expression fell. “I slipped a fragment of my soul into your Puzzle during that ridiculous incident with the clown and his kid. Even as you stand here, wasting my time, my shadow is going to search for Yugi and the others. I’ll kill them, take the power of your Ren for myself, and return the Items to the Tablet in preparation for my second coming.” 

“Bring it.” The Pharaoh marched to his chair. Slamming himself down, he grabbed his own die. “Not only will I beat you, but I won’t allow a single one of my remaining players to sacrifice themselves for the sake of victory.” 

“Oh, but the thief isn’t yours.” Zorc chuckled. “ **He’s my player**.” 

“Wrong! He has a will of his own, and he chose to defy you!” 

“We’ll see how well you do this round, but keep in mind, my bothersome host won’t be able to wrench control and save you next time you slip up. I’m going to make sure you see every single one of your game pieces **die** before I send you to join them in the **Shadows**.” 


	12. Chapter 12

Bakura died, and the pain shocked his very soul. As his ba and ka separated, his life flashed before him. His entire life—all three thousand years of his existence. Then a scratching noise rent through his mind, and the magic punching through his chest retracted while his wounds healed. He wanted to scream, but he couldn’t move his body. Zorc’s marionette strings still sewed through Bakura’s soul, controlling his every move. 

The Pharaoh stepped closer, grabbing the Ring from Bakura’s neck and ripping it free. Bakura crashed to the ground. Zorc snarled in disgust, kicking Bakura in the ribs. 

“It doesn’t matter. You were always nothing more than a **plaything** to amuse me. My Shadow Priest will deal with you and the other **fools** following the Pharaoh later. For now—”

“Mahad! Attack Zorc!” The Pharaoh pointed with his good hand. 

“Magic Blast!” The Illusionary Magus’s spirit shot another beam from his staff, but Zorc laughed, flying out of the shrine and disappearing. 

Bakura lay on his back, clutching his ribs. His eyes slammed shut. Again. Again Zorc had stolen his mind and turned him into a puppet. He’d ripped him from Ryou and— 

“Ryou.” Bakura struggled to stand despite the screaming hurt in his ribs. 

“I saw him,” the Pharaoh said. “He’s the one who re-wound time. He lost control afterward, but he’s trying to fight Zorc.”

Bakura smiled at the simple statement. The Pharaoh had no idea just how thoroughly Ryou had planned everything. Ryou wouldn’t test Zorc too far until it was time for the _coup de grace_. Bakura pointed at the Tablet. 

“Place the Ring and Puzzle in the stone, and let’s get the fuck out of here.” 

“My king, I don’t think it’s wise to listen to this thief.” Mahad glared at Bakura. 

“Like you said Pharaoh, this is a game. It doesn’t matter _who_ places the Items in the slab, because this can’t end until Zorc’s released. We can dick around here and argue if you want, but shouldn’t we check on the rest of your priests?” 

“Is this a game to you?” Mahad’s knuckles tensed as he tightened the grip on his staff. 

“It’s okay.” The Pharaoh gestured for Mahad to calm down. “I understand what he’s saying, but Bakura, we need to find Yugi. I think Zorc went after him and—”

“Yugi can take care of himself. We need to keep on with the storyline.” 

“How much do you remember now? You asked about Ryou.” The Pharaoh gave him a hopeful look. 

Bakura pursed his lips. “I remember everything from before, but this is when I originally died, so I’m afraid I don’t have any spoilers to share.” 

“Dammit.” The Pharaoh grit his teeth. 

Mahad’s energy had kept the spirits away during his battle with Bakura, but as post-battle fatigue settled into the Pharaoh, Mahad’s protective aura dimmed. The spirits circled him like sharks, waiting for their chance to finish what they’d started.

“If you return the Items to the slab, it’ll calm them.” Bakura crossed his arms over his chest. 

“Pharaoh—”

“He’s right, Mahad. Please, let me do this.” The Pharaoh lay the Ring to rest first, and then his Puzzle. The Pharaoh sighed, brushing his fingers along the familiar gold. He stood. “We’re going after Yugi.” 

“I told you, Yugi can handle himself. We need to gather the Items because if you wait for Zorc to collect them—then your entire court is going to end up like this asshole.” Bakura hitched his thumb toward Mahad. 

“Why do you care? Is it our comrades you’re worried about?” Mahad asked. “Or are you trying to manipulate us to accomplish your own goal of collecting the Items?”

“It does look suspicious,” the Pharaoh agreed. “Especially since you won’t let me check on my partner before we gather the Items.” 

“Let’s get this sorted out right now.” Bakura growled. “Pharaoh, I hate you. So what if your father didn’t know about the Items? So what if he ‘felt bad’ when he found out? A real king would have taken responsibility—”

Bakura dodged the light energy shot from Mahad’s staff. 

“Point is, Zorc’s at the top of my shit list right now, and if we’re going to have a chance to beat him, we need to play this _smart_. We’re going to have our battle with Zorc, while Yugi and Ryou have their own separate battles with him, but I _trust_ Ryou to succeed. Don’t you trust Yugi?” Bakura’s gaze bore into the Pharaoh. “It’s time we stopped treating them like vessels we need to look after and started treating them as equals.”

The Pharaoh bit his bottom lip, his internal conflict contorting his features. His shoulders slumped. He held his sling, as exhausted and injured as Bakura. He nodded. 

“You’re right. I’ll trust Yugi to take care of himself. Let’s go to the palace.” 

“Are you sure, Pharaoh?” Mahad asked, the distress clear in his tone. 

“I made my decision,” the Pharaoh said in a soft, but authoritative voice. 

Mahad knelt on one knee, head bowed. “Remember, my soul is bound to you. Call me whenever you have a need.” 

He vanished. 

“Thank the gods. That guy always pissed me off.” 

“You killed him the first time, didn’t you?” The Pharaoh met Bakura’s stare. 

“Sure did, and then—as you’ve already seen—he killed me. Seems even to me.” Bakura snorted. 

“Bakura, he was _family_.”

“Look around, bitch!” Bakura gestured to the spirits still circling them. “Everyone here was my family!” 

The Pharaoh scanned the hidden temple, studying each spirit. 

“When does it end, Bakura? My family kills yours, you kill mine, we kill each other. In the end there’s nothing but suffering.”

“I know.”

“Then why? Why are we still snapping at each other?” 

“Cuz habit’s a bitch and you piss me off. Hurry. It’s _your priests_ I’m trying to help you save here.” Bakura grabbed his head, as if trying to drown out the entire conversation, even his own half of it. 

“You’re so confusing.” The Pharaoh sighed. He gave the spirits a nervous look instead of moving. 

“You returned two Items to the Tablet. They don’t like you anymore than I do, but they’re giving you a chance to make things right this time.” Bakura spun around and walked into the light. 

He found the horse and mounted. The Pharaoh jogged to catch up and Bakura helped hoist him onto the horse’s back before trotting him into the desert. 

“My priests aren’t going to trust you,” the Pharaoh said. 

“They don’t have to trust me; they only need to obey you and hand over their Items.” 

“I think Priest Set might refuse.”

“Yeah, probably. He’s an asshole, but it’s Akhenaden who concerns me. What little I heard from Zorc when my spirit was in the Ring suggested that _he_ was the one who took over after I died.” 

“Akhenaden? Helped Zorc?” 

“He became his Shadow Priest and led the battle against you.” 

“That can’t be.” 

“I saw him throw a baby into a cauldron of boiling gold! The infant wasn’t even part of the 99. Akhenaden did it to stop the crying! He’s scum!” Bakura tightened his grip on the reigns. His hands trembled as he barely controlled his emotions enough not to shove the Pharaoh to the sand in a fresh outburst of grief. 

“I’m going to pry that Eye right out of his skull.” The Pharaoh swore, voice so soft Bakura almost couldn’t hear him over the horse’s hooves. 

Bakura started hearing the words. He’d never imagined the Pharaoh sounding as angry as Bakura felt. Before he could respond, a shadow covered them. Bakura tensed, expecting Zorc, but the shape above them didn’t carry the dread or chill of Zorc. He turned his head in time to see an enormous white dragon swoop down and capture them in her claws. She lifted them into the air.

*** 

The dragon flew them to a small, fortified barracks where new soldiers trained. She set them on the ground and disappeared in a flash of light. Bakura pulled out his knives. By the look in his eye, the Pharaoh knew Bakura planned on stabbing the first person he saw. But the first person to run out of the main barracks was Mana. She dashed to them and flung her arms around the Pharaoh, crying. 

“It’s okay, Mana. I’m okay.” He held her, petting her hair to try to calm her. 

“But, but M-master—”

“I know.” the Pharaoh nodded, wanting to spare Mana the pain of saying it out loud. “But Mahad’s ka is still with us.”

“Can I see him?” She pulled away, smearing tears around from her face yet somehow keeping her kohl intact. 

“Of course.” He summoned Mahad’s ka. 

“Master!” She flung her arms around him, going through him. 

“Mana, all my duties have been passed on to you. Study hard, guard the tombs, and do everything in your power to protect our Pharaoh.” 

“I will! I swear!” She nodded her head, drying her face and forcing her features into a brave expression. 

“But no scars—” the Pharaoh and Bakura spoke at the exact same moment. They glanced at each other before turning back to the apprentice mage. 

“Um, excuse me?” She asked, confused. 

“Remember a king is supposed to serve his people,” the Pharaoh explained before Bakura could say something graphic. “And it would grieve me if any of my people _ever_ hurt themselves—not even for my soul or memories should you ever harm yourself, or allow anyone else to harm themselves.” 

“O-okay.” She nodded, not understanding much more than before. “I’ll do my best.”

“I have to go. The Pharaoh needs to regain his strength. Take care of yourself, Mana.” 

She nodded and Mahad disappeared. 

“So he’s fallen as well?” Priest Set frowned. He and another woman stood near the door, watching.

“As well?” The Pharaoh asked, his heart racing.

“I regret to inform you that Akhenaden has betrayed us. He’s made a pact with a demon. We were searching for you when he attacked, and stole all of the Items. Kalim and Shada lost their lives in the battle. The rest of us fled here.” 

“We’ve fucked up the timeline too badly by keeping me alive.” Bakura crossed his arms over his chest. “Zorc’s trying to put things back on track.” 

“Sire, should I execute this thief now or should we throw him in the cell until morning?” Set asked. 

“No. No one is going to hurt him." Atem stood. "In fact, by royal decree, I hereby state that the _former_ thief, Bakura, is pardoned—”

***

“Are you sure you want to do that?” Zorc asked from across the gaming table in the Domino Museum. 

“Of course.” The Pharaoh glared at him. “Why shouldn’t I pardon Bakura? He’s fighting with us now.” 

“Just as I have my specific perks in the game…” Zorc traced his finger around the base of one of the three hour glasses. 

The second one was turned over. The Pharaoh didn’t remember time reversing after he flipped the first glass, but suspected it had something to do with Kalim’s and Shada’s deaths. The Pharaoh balled his hands into fists as Zorc finished his explanation. 

“You have your own special privilege. You have one chance to make a royal decree, and as Pharaoh is god, your word will become reality. So think carefully, Pharaoh, do you really want to waste your one chance to change the game on a pathetic, miserable, thief who—”

“When you put it that way, I believe I do want to alter my decree…” The Pharaoh pulled a deep breath into his lungs, shouting across the table.

***

“By royal decree! I hereby state that the _former_ thief, Bakura, is not only pardoned from _all_ crimes, but shall be adopted into the royal family.”

“What?” Set snarled. 

“The fuck?” Bakura turned to the Pharaoh. “Why would you—”

“To piss off Zorc,” the Pharaoh said, his voice low and angry. 

“Then I accept.” Bakura snorted. 

“Pharaoh, you _cannot do this_ ,” Seto insisted. 

“I can, and I have.” 

The rage coursing through him was familiar. It was the same anger he felt each time he used to Puzzle to summon a Shadow Game and send someone to their own demise. It was the fury bubbling in his blood when he set people on fire, broke their minds, or even sent them to their deaths, and he aimed it at Zorc. He couldn’t remember how history originally played out, but from what he’d learned through their Shadow Game, it was clear things could have gone better the first time— _he_ could have done better as the Pharaoh. Perhaps his attempt was too little too late, but the Pharaoh felt it was the right thing to do. He watched Bakura who fidgeted with his red robes. 

“You were his player. Now you’re mine.”

“I’m _not_ a trading card for you and Zorc to _trade around!_ ” 

“I was only going to pardon you, at first, but he told me not to waste my only decree on you, and you know what?” The Pharaoh clenched his hand not in the sling. “I’m sick of it. I’m sick of everyone acting like you’re somehow _less_ because you’re a thief. I don’t care about that! Do you hear me Seto?” The Pharaoh shot a hard glance at his priest. “My decree stands and it is will not be debated. By _anyone_.” 

“Whatever.” Bakura huffed, stepping away. 

Seto scowled, but the woman beside him gave the Pharaoh an interested look, as if she were surprised but impressed by his words. 

“Besides.” The Pharaoh shrugged. “Diabound will be a great help fighting Zorc.” 

Seto made a _tch_ sound. “It’s going to take more than a thief’s pet demon to defeat—”

“Fuck you, Diabound is a god-ka!” Bakura shouted. 

“A mere thief could never—”

“Come on Seto.” The Pharaoh groaned. “It’s giant, white, powerful, and looks holy to me. Use some common sense. Aren’t you all about rational thinking?” The Pharaoh dropped to one knee, bowing his head. “Bakura, I’m sorry for what happened in Kul Elna. I’m going to do everything I can to bring Akhenaden to justice for their sake and the sake of my priests who died fighting him. Please join our team.” 

“Get the fuck up you’re making this weird.” Bakura jerked the Pharaoh to standing. “I was already helping you, stupid. You didn’t have to adopt me like a godsdamn moron—but I guess it’s okay since you did it to spite Zorc. Really hate that fucker.” 

The Pharaoh smirked. “You’re blushing.” 

“Can we get this over with so I can steal a horse and get as far away from you assholes as possible?” 

“You’re right. I do want to see the others.” The Pharaoh marched inside before anyone could protest. He found Isis bathing Siamun’s forehead with a cool cloth in one of the barracks. 

“Thank the gods, you’re alive.” She dropped to her knees, clutching her hands together as if in prayer. 

“Yes,” the Pharaoh answered. “What’s wrong with Siamun?” 

“Akhenaden...attacked him.” Isis frowned. “He targeted Siamun first, raving about refusing to let Exodia attack Zorc? Kalim and Shada intercepted, but…”

“I heard.” The Pharaoh rested a hand on Isis’ shoulder. 

“I see you’ve also lost your Item. Without our spirit beasts to protect us.” She looked away. “The last vision I saw before Akhenaden took my Necklace was darkness covering the land.” 

“We’ll think of something,” the Pharaoh said. 

“ _What_ exactly?” Priest Set crossed his arms over his chest. 

“I’ll help.” The woman beside him spoke. “I—I want to fight to protect you.” 

“Kisara...are you sure? This is dangerous.” 

“Yes.” She nodded without hesitation. 

The Pharaoh glanced at Bakura. “Are Diabound and the White Dragon enough to defeat Zorc?” 

“No.” Bakura balled his hands into fists, glaring at the floor. 

“I can fight too!” Mana shouted.

“No, it’s too dangerous,” The Pharaoh argued. 

“The entire world is going to _die_ if we don’t stop the coming darkness. You have to let me help! I’ve practiced non-stop for the last three days and finally learned how to summon my spirit!” 

“She is _so_ Malik’s ancestor.” Bakura laughed. “I know that scowl. You better let her do what she wants.” 

The Pharaoh pressed his lips together in thought. His gaze flicked to Bakura. “If she fights with us, and I use Mahad’s ka—”

“It’s not enough.” Bakura snapped. “That’s why _we_ were supposed to put the Items in the Tablet. It would have given us some leverage against Zorc, but with Akhenaden filling the Tablet instead…” Bakura paused, frowning. “That son-of-a-bitch. If Zorc and Akhenaden worked together the first time—those dirty, fucking sons-of-bitches.” 

“Bakura you’re not making any sense.” The Pharaoh’s forehead wrinkled. 

“ _Akhenaden_ was Zorc’s Shadow Priest.” Bakura grit his teeth. “Fuck! The same asshole who murdered my family is the one who took control of their souls after I died! Think about it! Zorc used us all!” Bakura paced, shaking his head. With a roar he lunged at a wall and punched his fist into the mud-brick. “He used me, then used my enemy, and then manipulated me to—fuck! I have to go.” 

“Where?” the Pharaoh demanded. 

“Zorc is _not_ going to win this game. I’m am the Mother Fucking King of Thieves, and I’m going to do what a thief does best.” Bakura stormed out of the barracks with the Pharaoh screaming after him. 

“Bakura, no! Bakura wait!” 

Bakura stole a fresh horse and sped into the desert before the Pharaoh had a chance to stop him. 

***

Yugi hated the way the demon in front of him looked like Ryou, but his other half didn’t have a chance unless Yugi found his name. That meant defeating Bakura in a duel and continuing on until the end. Yugi tributed Marshmallon and Silent Magician to summon Gandora the Dragon of Destruction. Before casting Giga Rays to destroy the entire playing field. He also used Magical Barrier to protect his Silent Swordsman. After the dust cleared from Gandora’s attack, the level seven swordsman cut through Bakura with his blade. Blood spurted from Bakura’s mouth, dripping down his pale chin in bright crimson trails. 

“Wh...why is your monster…?”

“I used the spell card Magic Barrier.”

“Go Yugi!” Jounouchi cheered from behind him as the other’s clapped. “You won!”

“Damn...never thought the vessel...could…”

Bakura’s image dissolved, disappearing into the Shadow Realm. Yugi prayed Ryou’s soul wasn’t connected. Powerless to change the outcome either way, Yugi set his jaw, stared straight ahead, and marched toward the final chamber where the Pharaoh’s name waited. 

The ground shook. Something crashed in another chamber of the tomb. Dust rained into their hair as the tremors intensified. 

“What the hell’s going on?” Honda shouted. 

“The tomb’s falling apart. Hurry! We have to reach my other half’s name before that happens!”

Then ran forward, never glancing behind them, even as the stones plummeted to the ground.

***

Bakura slinked down the stairs and into the secret shrine. The spirits wrapped around him in greeting, but they were unusually quiet. Bakura paused, brushing his fingers through the smoke like images before continuing his mission. The torchlight waved along the stones, but Bakura clung to the shadows, a part of them. Zorc’s voice echoed off the stone walls. 

“Who awakens me? Who desires the **power** of the **Shadows**?”

“It is I…” Akhenaden answered. 

Bakura crept behind a stone pillar. Akhenaden stood before the Tablet, bowing. Blood dripped from his empty eye socket and plopped into a growing puddle at the base of the Tablet. Filling up the shrine from floor to roof, Zorc loomed behind the Tablet. He leaned forward. Shadows hissed between his teeth like smoke. Akhenaden dropped to his knees, bowing lower as Zorc spoke. 

“With the seven forbidden treasures, you have opened the **Door** of **Darkness** and released my power in this world. The Heavens will turn **black** with clouds, and the earth will be **crowned** with **terror** … and you wish to receive a **part** of that **power**?”

“I do!” 

Bakura rolled his eyes. _The Heavens will turn black with clouds, and the earth will be crowned with terror_. Fuck, Ryou was never going to let Bakura live this dialogue down. He could already hear the “is that how he talked in bed” jokes. As they spoke, Bakura stepped closer—hiding behind each pillar so they didn’t notice him. Zorc’s laughter peeled throughout the shrine. 

“ **Priest Akhenaden** , I knew you would come here to complete the **dark contract** with me...because **you** are the **one** who created the **Millenium Items**.” 

“Yes...all was according to your will, Lord Zorc.” Akhenaden trembled as he raised his face enough to catch a glimpse of the dark god hunched over him. 

Rage flooded Bakura. These were memories—varied from their Shadow Game, but still memories of what actually happened. Knowing Zorc manipulated Akhenaden and used him as his dark priest—only to court Bakura in the Ring and control _him_ at the same time...stomach acid burned the back of Bakura’s throat. He suppressed the urge to vomit while crawling on his stomach to come within pouncing distance of the Items. If he could grab at least the Puzzle, then the Pharaoh could summon the gods, and then they’d have a chance fighting Zorc. 

“ **Akhenaden...I give you my power! Become the slave of my soul and rule the world! _”_**

 ** __** _Don’t do it, that’s what he says to all the guys_. _Hey baby, come over here and let’s rule the world_. Bakura thought as he watched Akhenaden transform to Zorc’s High Priest of Darkness. Without warning, Zorc and Akenaden curled in on themselves in pain. Bakura held his breath, not understanding what was wrong. They glanced toward the stairs to the shrine at the same time. 

“My other **shadow**...defeated by a mere vessel. How?” Zorc growled. “Come. We’ll make sure they never bring the Pharaoh his name.” 

With that, they rushed out of the hidden chamber and left Bakura alone with all the pretty, pretty treasure. 

He plucked the Puzzle from the Tablet. 

The spirits screamed. For the first time, they’re anger was aimed at his soul. Bakura glanced around the room. They churned like a storm. He raised up both hands, speaking slowly. 

“This is _not_ betrayal,” Bakura insisted. “I’m helping you and everyone else this time!”

He reached for the Rod. Priest Set would be more useful if— 

The spirits crushed Bakura in rage. He blocked their blows as best he could with his _heka_ , but had to stumble away from the Tablet. They’d been denied the Pharaoh’s life, Bakura had failed using the Items to set them free, Zorc’s evil drove them deeper into madness. 

“Trust me! This is to help you.” Bakura coughed, his energy draining quickly. 

They pressed against Bakura’s soul to smother him. With his hand clutched around the Puzzle and tears singing his eyes, Bakura fled. 

“I’ll come back!” He swore, dodging their attacks as the breath wheezed in his lungs. “I’ll find a way to free you!” Bakura ran until he crashed onto the sand outside the shrine. 

Above him the sky was black as the Shadow Realm and the ground quaked. Bakura knew what it meant—Zorc had activated the third hour glass. He was destroying the game board and bringing about Armageddon. The Pharaoh was out of time, and Bakura wouldn’t reach him on horseback. Summoning the last of his ba, Bakura called Diabound to whisk him through the sand and towards the others. 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end of this chapter is fucking metal, my dudes, but disclaimer for canon typical violence and Ryou typical game-winning self-harm, and blood. (Actually, it's a little less than canon-typical, when you considered that Ryou died in the original shadow rpg but probably won't die now...we'll have to wait and see when the next chapter posts...)
> 
> Speaking of the next chapter, I'm going to try and rush the last two chapters this week b/c Monday is the day I need to start posting for the ygo bang, and that's 11 daily chapters, so I want this done before I have to deal with that. After, I'll probably take the rest of August off to catch up on my non-fic writing. Hope you enjoy the end of this and the bang fic!

The Pharaoh stumbled to the floor when the earthquakes began. Stands of shields and other equipment turned on their sides and a section of the roof in the room beside them caved in. The Pharaoh expected sunlight to pour in through the hole, but the room somehow grew...darker. 

“The darkness is upon us.” Isis held Siamun’s hand as he lay unconscious on the bed. “It won’t stop until it swallows everything.” 

“I’m not going to let that happen.” The Pharaoh pushed himself to his feet. 

“Don’t do something stupid and heroic like try to fight on your own.” Priest Set leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. He managed to stay upright during the quake even when the others had tumbled. 

“I swore I wouldn’t allow a single one of my friends to die after Mahad, but I broke that vow when Kalim and Shada died.” The Pharaoh’s hands balled into fists. “Stopping Zorc is the only way to protect those of you left.” 

The door opened and a silhouette stumbled into the barracks. The Puzzle glimmered in his hand despite the dark sky behind him. 

“Maybe...this will...help.” Bakura reached out with the Puzzle and collapsed to the ground. 

“Bakura!” The Pharaoh sank to his knees, bracing Bakura with his good arm. “Is this why you left? To steal the Puzzle?"

“Tried to grab more, but the spirits are pissed.” Bakura winced, clutching at his bandaged ribs. “But with the gods, your mages, and a dragon on your side...might have a chance against Zorc.” 

“Thank you,” the Pharaoh spoke in a soft voice. “It must have been difficult to take this if it upset your village.” 

“It’s the only way to save them...from Zorc.” Bakura lost consciousness, head tilting against the crook of the Pharaoh’s good arm and hair spilling over his forehead. 

“Set, help me carry him to bed.” The Pharaoh struggled to lift Bakura, but couldn’t with his other arm in a sling. 

“Why?” Priest Set didn’t budge. 

“Why are you so spoiled?” Kisara smacked him upside the head and helped the Pharaoh herself dealing with most of Bakura’s weight herself. 

"What?" Set pouted, rubbing the side of his head. 

"Act more honorably," Kisses snapped at him.

“You’re really strong,” the Pharaoh said as they lay Bakura onto a bed next to Siamun’s. 

“Um, thank you, my Pharaoh.” Kisara bowed and shied from the bed, embarrassed.

The Pharaoh wanted to give her his name instead of having her call him “pharaoh” but a pang throbbed when he remembered his name was lost. Instead he nodded, hoping she saw the gesture as friendly. At the very least Set had the decency to look ashamed of himself when she stood beside him again. He muttered as apology under his breath which she accepted with a snort and shake of her head. 

“It’s time we face Zorc.” The Pharaoh glanced at each of his remaining friends in turn. “Isis, will you look after the wounded?”

“Yes, Pharaoh.” She bowed. 

“Without the Rod I’m useless, and I know it.” Set grit his teeth. “Kisara, if you would permit it then let me protect your body while you fight. I swear no harm will come to your vessel as long as I draw breath.”

“I trust you.” She sighed and curled her hand with his. “And I promise to look after the Pharaoh while you look after me.”

“I don’t understand. Why do you need to protect her body?” The Pharaoh frowned in confusion. 

“She’s an akh in human form,” Set explained. “Her ba and ka are already unified, so when she summons the Blue Eyed Dragon—”

“I lose consciousness,” Kisara finished for Set. 

The Pharaoh’s mouth dropped. He never heard of anyone being alive in a physical body with a unified soul before. Regret clenched at his chest. He hadn’t lived long enough to give himself a chance to learn about his kingdom outside of the palace walls. He glanced at Bakura, Kisara, the others, and for the first time the depth and complexity of how each of them had their own story sank into the Pharaoh’s mind. Though he still didn’t have his memories, the Pharaoh was sure this was something he never understood as a ruler. There was nothing to do about it, however. He couldn’t change the past, but he could protect them in the game—he had to—he would no matter what. 

Another earthquake shattered his thoughts. The Pharaoh found a sword in a weapon rack and turned to the others. Despite knowing it was a Shadow Game, he panicked at the thought of any of his companions dying in battle, but suppressed his fear so his voice didn’t waiver when he spoke. 

“I’m glad I’ve met all of you. I know things seem desperate, but don’t throw your lives away in this battle. Even after we defeat Zorc, they’ll be a lot of people in the towns and villages who will need our help, so we have to survive because our work doesn’t end today.” 

With grave faces, they nodded. 

“Okay...let’s go.” The Pharaoh led them to the stables where they each took a horse. 

No one questioned where they were going. The black above them concentrated to a lightless vortex where the palace stood. As they rode toward the pitch-black cyclone, the Pharaoh prayed the townspeople managed to escape from the city unharmed. 

They reached the city gates, but instead of living guards, skeletons charged at them. The Pharaoh summoned Mahad and the magician blasted the bones to dust. He scanned the streets and rubble for survivors, but saw no sign of anything living. A dead bull lay in the road, ribs poking from his hide, but not a single fly buzzed around the carcass. The city was empty except for the occasional skeleton guards. A shiver rippled through the Pharaoh as the quiet haunted him. The Pharaoh pressed forward, anxious to find Akhenaten and begin the final battle. 

“Wait.” Mana rode ahead. “I sense a trap.” 

Chanting, Mana held out her hands. _Heka_ glowed around her palms. A crack rang into the air and large stones spewed into the street ahead of them. 

“Well done, Mana.” The Pharaoh nodded.

“But the way is blocked,” Set said. 

“I can fix that as well.” Mana used a magic blast on the rubble. It wasn’t as strong as Mahad’s magic, but it was more than enough to clear their path. 

“You really have improved a lot. Thank you, Mana,” the Pharaoh said as they rode on.

As they drew near the palace, the air around them thickened and the darkness hugged their vision. 

“Whatever power this is, it’s foul.” Set frowned. “Akhenaden betrayed us for _this filth_?” 

“Zorc has a way of manipulating those who follow him. I believe both Akhenaten and Bakura were being controlled since the Items were created—perhaps even before, in the case of Akhenaten.” 

“Then they were _weak_ ,” Set growled. “To let a demon manipulate them.” 

The Pharaoh didn’t respond. Once he would have thought himself immune to Zorc’s influence and agreed with Seto. But now the Pharaoh remembered the rage and justification he felt when first awakening from the Puzzle. The people he punished with Shadow Games _deserved it_ , he’d been sure they deserved it, but looking back, the Pharaoh admitted there was a part of him that _enjoyed_ delivering Penalty Games. It wasn’t until Yugi drew him away from the initial darkness of the Puzzle that he calmed himself. It sickened him, but he knew under the right conditions anyone could fall into the darkness. Even Seto and even him. 

Mana deactivated another trap, and when skeletons charged at them, Mahad burned them to ash. Their horses snorted, eyes wide with fear. 

“We need to find a stable to shelter them,” The Pharaoh said. “If we get too much closer to that black pillar, they’ll spook and run, and I’m not looking forward to being thrown from a horse with my arm already in a sling.” 

“There’s a public stable near us,” Set said. “Considering the condition of the rest of the city, it’s probably abandoned. We could use it.”

“Will those skeletons attack them without us?” Kisara frowned. 

“I think they’re after us,” the Pharaoh said to comfort her, although he wouldn’t put it past them to kill anything moving. However, they’d have to risk it and hope they’d stay safe. 

Set led them to the stable and they watered and fed the horses before leaving them in the care of fate and the gods. On foot, they marched together toward the castle. Another wave of skeleton guards surrounded them. Kisara knotted her brow, but Set rested a hand on her shoulder. 

“Not yet. Save your strength for the demon we’re about to face.” 

“Set’s right.” The Pharaoh nodded. “Don’t worry. We can handle this. Right Mana?”

She gave him a single, determined nod of her head. She and Mahad raised their staffs and incinerated the undead guards blocking their path. The wind swept the burnt remains into the air. The soot rose and eddied in the empty city roads. The Pharaoh’s heart ached. Was this the pain Bakura had when he saw his home ruined and nothing but ash in the streets? Now his city was as desolate as Kul Elna, and the Pharaoh could only swear to make Zorc pay for both his and Bakura’s ruined homes. 

They made a final turn and saw it, sheer darkness rising into the heavens. The Pharaoh squinted at the darkness, eyes watering from the sight of it. HIs hair blew into his face, and he clawed it away before glancing at the others. 

“If any of you wish to turn back, this will be your last chance.”

“Never.” Mana balled her hands into fists. 

“None of us are cowards.” Set snorted. 

“It’s worth risking our lives to keep everyone else safe.” Kisara glared at the dark in front of them. 

“I agree.” The Pharaoh walked in front of them. 

Tentatively, he reached for the pillar. Cold seared the tips of his fingers; he jerked his hand back. 

“Pharaoh? Are you all right?” Kisara inspected his hand. 

“I’ll be okay.” He clenched his hand in a fist, trying to thaw the frozen flesh. 

“I’ll try a magic bolt.” Mana raised her staff, shooting light into the pitch. The void absorbed the magic like the desert sand soaking up a single drop of water. 

“Priest Set.” Kisara slipped her arms around him, resting her head on his shoulder. 

“Yes. It’s time. You can break this, Kisara. I know you can.” Set spoke in an assured but gentle voice. 

The Pharaoh’s mouth dropped. It was a shock to hear Set speak so tenderly to someone. Kisara closed her eyes. Her body slumped, dead weight in Set’s arms. He caught her and held her upright. Above them, the white dragon from before glowed in the sky. Her blue eyes gleamed with determination as a swell of energy gathered around her mouth. She circled in front of the black pillar and breathed pure light into the dark. Cracking beneath the pressure of her breath, the column shattered like a vase thrown against stone. The Pharaoh covered his face as obsidian glass rained down on them. It chimed as it struck the ground, then dissolved in a hiss of dark steam. 

“What...on earth…” Set’s eyes widened in shock when the palace came into view. 

The walls gleamed like jet. Monsters flew around the spires, and fiends climbed the outer walls. The Pharaoh’s jaw tightened. 

“It’s a nightmare turned real.” Mana hugged herself. 

“It’s what Zorc wants to do to the entire world. Akhenaden will be in the throne room.” The Pharaoh gritted his teeth. This was a game, so it stood to reason that the final boss would be sitting on the Pharaoh’s throne and waiting to greet him there. 

With a shimmer of light, the dragon condensed into the shape of a human and returned to Kisara’s body. She sucked in a sharp breath, eyes popping wide as she jerked. 

“I have you. It’s all right,” Set whispered, stroking her hair.

“I’m okay. Thank you.” She nodded at Set before standing on her own and following them into the palace. 

“Careful, I sense enemies all around us,” Mahad said, hovering beside them. 

“And more traps.” Mana closed her eyes, diffusing several red-glowing tiles on the floor below them. 

“Your powers have improved immensely in the last week.” Mahad glanced at his disciple with pride gleaming in his eyes. 

“I wish I had taken my studies more seriously when you were alive to teach me.” Her face fell. 

“Don’t worry. Study hard after this, and you’ll surpass even me,” Mahad said. 

"But—" 

A demon dashed through the hall toward them. Mana shrieked and raised her staff, but Set grabbed his sword and chopped the head from the creature’s neck before she could attack. The creature’s body slammed into the wall before dropping to the floor, and the head rolled past their feet. Mana covered her mouth with her hand. Kisara kept her eyes forward, searching for new dangers instead of dwelling on the dead fiend. They held their breaths, waiting for more attacks, but when nothing appeared, they continued forward. 

Between the fights and traps, they were weary by the time they reached the large, polished granite double doors. The Pharaoh exhaled a tired breath, but when he glanced behind him, he smiled at everyone. 

“This is it. Are we ready?” 

“Of course,” Set said. 

“Let’s end this.” Kisara balled her hand into a fist. 

“Yeah.” Mana nodded. “I still have enough ba to fight.” 

The Pharaoh nodded and pushed the doors. Akhenaten sat on the throne. A mask covered his face, and a long main of crimson hair flowed down his shoulders and black robes. He laughed in greeting. 

“How dare you,” Set snarled. “You sit on that throne as if you were worthy, but you’re filth!” 

“Oh?” With a raised finger, Akhenaten sent Set flying across the room. He hit the wall behind them and dropped to the floor, groaning in pain from the crash. 

“Set!” Kisara ran to him, dropping to her knees and cradling him in her arms. 

“Don’t worry about me.” He shoved her away. “Protect...the Pharaoh…” 

She nodded, leaping to her feet and sprinting to where the Pharaoh and Mana stood. With a dragon on one side of him, and a sorceress on the other, The Pharaoh threw back his shoulders, shoving aside the last of his fear. 

“It’s time we end this, Zorc!” 

“The entire world is ending. You’ve felt the earthquakes, you’ve seen the darkness flood the sky, and now it’s time to end your lives with the rest of existence.” 

"No! We’re not going to be defeated and neither will the world!"

Grabbing the Puzzle, the Pharaoh summoned the gods. The filled the room from wall to wall and floor to ceiling. Ra attacked first, shooting golden fire over the Shadow Priest’s body. He screamed. The fire burned away his hair and flesh as he melted like gold in a cauldron. But as the flesh dripped away, a darker Shadow ripped through his shell, growing and taking shape in front of them. 

“Oh gods…” Mana gasped as Zorc’s true form solidified. 

“Your gods **can’t** save you now.” Zorc laughed, sending a wave of power out and shoving them all against the wall. 

***

Yugi and the others flew through the air and aimed for the pillar of darkness rising from the palace like a beacon in a video game. They saw the Blue Eyes White Dragon shatter the pillar and cheered for her and Seto’s former self as the scraps of void crumbled and fell to the earth. Below them, the city stretched in every direction, but the buildings were damaged and skeletons patrolled the streets. They continued forward until they neared the palace. When they got close, monsters surrounded them. 

“What are we going to do?” Anzu dodged one of the attacking creatures. 

“Don’t worry. I still have my duel disk.” Yugi plucked a card from his deck. 

Gaia the Fierce Knight manifested and drew the attention of the monsters. While he fought, Yugi landed onto the ground and pulled open the doors to the castle. 

“Hurry!” Yugi shouted as he raced down the hallway. 

They weren’t sure where the Pharaoh was, and had to check each room until a dark, terrifying laugh echoed throughout the palace. Jonouchi necked them toward the sound. 

“C’mon! This way!”

They held hands as they ran in the direction of the gruesome noise. They charged into the throne room and froze in place when they saw the battle. Zorc loomed above them. The three gods and Blue Eyes barraged him with endless attacks, but it was clear they were losing the battle. Zorc swiped Slifer with his claws and the dragon dropped to the ground, coiling in pain. The Pharaoh stood in the center of it all, swaying, stumbling, barely on his feet. 

“Aibou…” The Pharaoh turned over his shoulder. He coughed blood over the ripped fabric tied around his arm like a sling. “...Run.” 

“Atem!” Yugi shouted when he saw him, speeding to him. Atem crashed to the ground but Yugi caught him and held him. “Atem, I’m sorry! I’m sorry we didn’t get here sooner.” 

“Whu-what did you call me?” Atem blinked. He looked as if he almost remembered, but needed to hear it one more time. 

“Atem…” Yugi whispered, cupping Atem’s face. “That was the name hidden in your tomb.” 

“How were you able to read it?” Atem smiled. 

“I’ve been studying when you were asleep.” Yugi grinned. “I thought it might come in handy when we tried to regain your memories.” 

“Atem…” he tasted the word in his mouth. “My name’s Atem!” 

Atem threw his head back and laughed. The sound rang out into the room. The Puzzle glowed a sharp, bright white-gold. The gods glowed with the same bright, bright light. Zorc shrieked in rage, screaming that Yugi and the other’s should have died when he destroyed the tomb. 

“Well it takes more than a few falling rocks to take us down, y’big jerk!” Jounouchi shouted at the demon. 

“Yeah, Jou has a really hard head,” Honda added. 

“Look.” Anzu held out her hands as sparks floated down on them like glowing snow. 

Atem gasped, feeling his ba regenerate. He stood. The Puzzle flashed, blinding them with it’s light. When it faded, the three gods were gone, and a single light deity floated in their place. 

“ **Horakhty** ,” Zorc snarled.

Then he spoke no more, for light filled the room and dissolved all the shadows.

***

Ryou sat in his soul room, watching and waiting for the precise moment to finish his plan. He saw Bakura steal the Puzzle and pass it on to the Pharaoh before fainting. He saw Yugi battle a Shadow version of Ryou and find the Pharaoh’s name. He saw the Pharaoh’s futile battle against Zorc, and Yugi rushing into the throne room to call out Atem’s name—giving him the power to summon the final divine entity, the only being who could defeat Zorc in the game. 

Horakhty’s attack was so bright that it blinded them as they sat staring down at the board. Zorc threw his right arm over his eyes to shield himself even as his character died in the game. But to defeat Zorc in the game wasn’t good enough for Ryou. Even with the terms of the Shadow Game, sending Zorc back to the void wouldn’t stop him. As long as the Millennium Tome existed in the world, as long as men’s appetite for power would lure them to seek out the Shadow Alchemy within, then there would always be a chance of Zorc returning to the world. 

Death wasn’t enough. Ryou was going to obliterate him and free the spirits of Kul Elna still bound to his Shadow Magic. 

He seized control of his left hand, gripping his right wrist and slamming his own palm onto the point of the Khafre Pyramid. Ryou laughed as the pain stabbed through his arm. He laughed so loud and so hard that the sound escaped his mouth despite Zorc being in control of 95% of his body. 

“How do you like that, Asshole? Sucks, doesn’t it?” Ryou screamed at Zorc. 

“Ryou! What are you doing?” Atem shouted from across the table. 

“Don’t worry about me. I have this mother fucker right where I want him.” Ryou pressed his hand further down to guarantee Zorc didn’t pull free before it was time. 

Blood gushed along the walls of Khafre. Ryou’s blood filled the hidden grooves he’d meticulously carved all over the game board. As the blood flowed and filled each crack, a pattern emerged, the magic seal Malik taught him only mixed into with the power of Zorc’s own Shadow Game. 

“ **No!** ” Zorc wailed through Ryou’s mouth. 

“Yes!” Ryou shouted in return, control of his body seeping back to him as the blood poured out. “As long as you’re connected to the Items, Bakura’s people are damned and you have a way to return. No more! I’m freeing the Spirits of Kul Elna and destroying you!” Laughter interrupted Ryou’s speech. Lightheadedness rushed over him from blood loss. “Zorc Necrophades…please die knowing you were easy to trick and the thief you coveted, the one you used and manipulated and controlled for thousands of years...he’s going to be okay. No, better. He’s going to be joyous and alive in my and Malik’s arms—too bad you won’t see how happy we make him because you'll be undone!” 

“ **NO!** ” Zorc screeched. 

“Go to your fucking end knowing he was _never_ yours and always mine and Malik’s.” 

The lines around the gameboard met, blood filling all the spaces and light glowing from the seal. Zorc roared as his spirit was ripped from Ryou and the Ring. Another smear of black pulled from the Puzzle, and five more shapes were pulled into the room. All seven fragments combined, stretching and bending to the shape of the magic seal glowing across the board. 

As simple as crushing dried plaster, the light eroded the darkness as it crumbled and disintegrated until no speck remained of Zorc’s Shadow Magic. 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last two chapters are falling action and resolution, but there's not much to cw except maybe for general hospitalization after Ryou's little stunt. 
> 
> Malik being the nervous bf trying to give cliche presents is...fucking adorable? 
> 
> I'll try to post the final chapter Sunday (Haven't had a spicy chapter in awhile. Can't let all this plot ruin my reputation lol)

After defeating Zorc, Yugi showed Atem and the others how to fly and they returned the soldiers’ barracks to share the good news of Zorc’s defeat. Both Siamun and Bakura sat upright in bed, too weak to stand but awake.

“We did it!” Mana cheered, bear-hugging Atem and then Isis.

“We couldn’t have won if Bakura hadn’t risked his life to give me the Puzzle, while Yugi, Jounouchi, Honda, and Anzu risked their lives to bring me my name. Thank you, everyone.” Atem bowed.

“You should have seen the duel between Yugi and Zorc!” Honda shouted.

“Yugi kicked Zorc’s ass with Gandora!”

“Even when the tomb collapsed, he guided us all to safety and then flew as fast as he could to help you, Atem.” Anzu smiled at both of them standing side by side.

“I’m grateful. To everyone who’s helped.” Atem stared at his hands. His vision blurred. “But now the game is over. We’ve won, but I have no more memories left, so I’m fading.”

“But Pharaoh, we still need you. You can’t leave!” Mana crushed him, weeping into his chest but careful of his injured shoulder.

“It’s okay, Mana. Priest Set will rule in my place, and I know I’ll rest safely with you in charge of the tomb guardians—but please remember what I told you. You should never throw your lives away or hurt yourselves nor the later generations for any Pharaoh’s sake.”

“I don’t understand.” She shook her head.

“It’s okay.” Atem stroked her hair, heartbroken that he was leaving them. He glanced at Kisara. “Try to help Seto. He’s a little bit…”

“He’s an asshole.” Kisara offered an apologetic smile.

“Yes.” Atem laughed.

“Pharaoh, flattered as I am, you can’t just _appoint_ a successor.” Set frowned.

“I’m not. We’re cousins. The throne is rightfully yours.” Atem stepped back. The magic tugged him away from the game and he knew he only had a few minutes left.

“No, my father was only a soldier—”

“That was a lie,” Siamun said. “Told by Akhenaten to protect you from any backlash which may arise because of the massacre of Kul Elna.” Siamun sighed. “Right before Akhenaten attacked, I found documents explaining everything. Set, you _are_ of royal blood.”

“And now it’s time for us to go.” Atem locked his good hand with Yugi’s. “Please take care of each other after I’m gone. I know this is a game and won’t change the past, but even if this world only exists in my heart, I’d like to think of everyone here being a little happier than they were in the past.”

Bakura grabbed his chest, clenching his teeth in pain.

“Bakura, what’s wrong?” Atem broke away from Yugi to check on Bakura who still lay in bed to recover from using almost all of his ba.

“Ryou...he’s lost too much blood. I feel his heartbeat fading. Get the fuck out of here...take him to a hospital.”

“I’ll go. You finish saying goodbye.” Yugi grabbed the others and they flew through the destroyed roof and toward the Puzzle hanging in the sky like the sun.

“What about you?” Atem asked.

“Who cares about me! Go save Ryou!” Bakura’s face twisted in pain as he shouted.

“I care! We’ll save both of you!” Atem shouted back. “It’s bad enough we died the first time—this time we’re going to live!”

“Heh, don’t worry…” Bakura dropped back to the bed. “Ryou’s got a plan, but he can’t complete it if he bleeds out over the diorama. Get the fuck out of here.”

Bakura shut his eyes. He wasn’t fading and Atem assumed it was because his soul was still trapped in the game somehow. He frowned, but didn’t know what to do except listen to Bakura and help Ryou. Atem glanced at the last of his royal court. He hugged each of them, muttering a final goodbye before fading from the game completely.

***

Atem reappeared as the Spirit of the Puzzle, standing next to Yugi and the others as they swarmed Bakura. They’d pulled his hand from the Pyramid and wrapped it in gauze from a first aid kit hanging on the museum wall. Ryou reached out, straining to reach something on the board.

“Ba...kur…”

“Don’t move. We called an ambulance. They’ll be here any minute.” Anzu wrapped her jacked over Ryou to keep him warm, but he still shivered, forcing his bluish lips to form words despite his half-conscious state.

“Dam...it...listen. I need...Bakur...a.”

As the others tried to calm him down. Only Atem realized what Ryou wanted.

“Aibou, can we switch? I need to grab something.” He asked.

“Sure?” Yugi tilted his head, confused.

Atem took control of the body. He crawled over the last of the broken buildings, avoiding the small rivers of blood staining the diorama. He reached into the soldier barracks and found the little thief figurine. He remembered Ryou saying the last of Bakura’s soul existed in the game, and Bakura hadn’t faded like Atem did—he must be contained in his figurine.

“I have him!” Atem showed the doll to Ryou. “I’ll look after him. I promise. I'll keep him safe until you're recovered and give him to you afterward, so rest.”

Gratitude filled Ryou’s eyes. A weary smile stretched across his lips before he passed out.

“They're so alike,” Atem said to himself and shook his head.

“Who?” Honda asked.

“Ryou and the Thief King.”

“The who?” Jounouchi asked.

“We can exchange stories later. Right now you guys watch Ryou. I’m going to the front of the museum so I can show the paramedics the way here.”

Atem used the free moment to stand outside and let the last 3000 years of information wash over him. Some of his memories floated over to Yugi who stood beside him as a spirit and kept an arm wrapped around Atem’s waist.

“I wish I could re-do everything,” Atem confessed. “Not in a game. In my actual life.”

Yugi gave him an understanding hum, but didn’t speak, comforting Atem with gestures instead of words. Atem thought of the survivors, Set, Kisara, Isis, Mana—

The thought of Mana made Atem think of Malik. He grabbed Yugi’s cellphone and found their old Skype call, redialing and praying Malik would answer the call.

Malik’s face appeared, his expression carved into a neutral mask.

“Hello, Pharaoh.”

“Atem.”

“So you found your name. Does that mean the game is over?”

“Yes. That’s why I called. Ryou’s unconscious, but an ambulance will be here any minute. We’re taking him to a hospital, I’ll let you know his condition as soon as we hear from a doctor.”

“I see. Thank you for your call—”

“Bakura’s okay, too,” Atem interrupted Malik before he could end the call.

“He is?” Malik’s mask cracked, hope and fear mingling in his gaze.

“I think so.” Atem showed Malik the little thief doll. “He ended the game injured, but he was alive, and I told Ryou I’d look after him until he was well again.”

“Thank the gods…” The rest of Malik’s mask crumbled, falling with the tears slipping down his cheeks. “I’ll be there in three days—whatever you do, don’t let my sister talk you into coming here. She means well, but she doesn’t understand—”

“Malik, I can hear sirens. I need to show the paramedics where Ryou is.”

“Okay, look, we have to talk when I get to Domino. _Stay there_ until you speak with me, okay?”

Atem nodded, but hung up the phone when the medical staff exited the ambulance. He led them to the back room where they’d played their Shadow Game, saying Ryou had fallen while setting up the exhibit and impaled himself on accident. One of the others had covered up most of the game board with a tarp so the blood-seal didn’t show. The paramedics loaded Ryou onto a stretcher and took him away. They all couldn’t fit in the ambulance, so Yugi rode with Ryou while the others followed in a cab.

***

Ryou opened his eyes, groggy. He struggled to sit, but multiple hands held him down.

“You need to rest,” Anzu said.

“Yeah buddy, you really wrecked yourself in that game,” Jounouchi spoke after her.

“I’m sorry.” Ryou was sure they’d had this conversation already, but the doctors had him on heavy medication and the past few days were a blur.

“What’s important is you recover.” Honda shoved his hands in his pockets. “But don’t expect the Ring back this time. We’ll dump it in wet cement if we have to.”

“It’s empty,” Ryou said. “All the Items are empty now—except for Atem’s soul in the Puzzle.”

But soon Atem was meant for the Ceremonial Duel and would leave the world forever—at least that’s what Malik said when they’d spoken over the phone. Since he and Yugi saved Bakura, Ryou planned on offering them an alternate fate.

“Where’s Yugi? I need to talk to him.”

“He’s getting coffee. Go ahead and sleep, you can talk to him tomorrow.” Anzu brushed Ryou’s hair out of his face.

He closed his eyes and dozed. The next time he awoke, he was less groggy. Ryou opened his eyes and looked around. His baby sitters were gone, all except Yugi who napped in a chair beside him.

“I’m surprised they left you alone,” Ryou muttered, finding the button to incline his bed.

“Oh, you’re awake.” Yugi yawned. “How are you feeling?”

“Like a demon’s been in control of my body.” Ryou offered a rueful smile. “I am sorry, for so many things.”

“I’m not going to blame you for anything Zorc did.” Yugi shook his head. “But I’ll always wish you’d had asked us for help.”

“I didn’t even tell Malik and Bakura my plan until the last moment. I couldn’t even _think_ about it unless I was buried deep in my soul room. I made a basement where I could hide and plan without even Bakura feeling my thoughts.”

“It must have been lonely, to isolate yourself like that.” Yugi frowned.

“I couldn’t risk anyone dying for the sake of defying Zorc. It was too dangerous, do you understand? I _couldn’t_ ask for help. Besides…” Ryou’s eyes flicked to the Puzzle around Yugi’s neck. “At the time I didn’t trust Atem. I thought he was an evil spirit controlling you.”

“You have that a little backwards, don’t you think?” Yugi laughed. “You’re the one who had the murderous thief's soul connected to you.”

“I knew his reasons for everything he did. I didn’t often _agree_ with his actions, but I _understood_ why he did them. Atem was the monster lurking under the bed, always lying in wait to hurt Bakura or Malik.”

“It wasn’t like that at all,” Yugi argued.

“It _felt_ that way,” Ryou said. “In my soul room, in Battle City, I remember the pain and sadness both Malik and Bakura felt. How damaged they were. Why wouldn’t I resent the Pharaoh under those circumstances? Especially after Slifer—”

“I’m sorry about that,” Atem appeared, interrupting Ryou. “It was a Shadow Game, and at the time we didn’t think we had a choice, but we should have noticed something was wrong well before the game and thought of your safety during the duel.” Atem sighed. “You taught me a lot during the RPG.”

“You don’t have to apologize. You made your amends when you spent your only royal decree to steal Bakura’s character to your team.” Ryou smiled and held out his hand. “May I see him, please. It hurts, no longer being closely connected. I’m still linked to Malik, somewhat, but Bakura’s consciousness is sleeping in the doll, so I can hardly sense him.”

“Here.” Atem pulled out a deck protector case from his back pocket.

Ryou opened the box and saw the Thief figurine he’d lovingly carved and painted by hand. Ryou sighed; relief swelled in his chest as he stroked the doll’s hair.

“I’d say I can’t repay you for keeping him alive, but there is _one_ way.”

“What is it?”

“A minute more.” Ryou’s smile broadened. “I told you, I have some connection to Malik still, and he’s very close. How bad do I look?” Ryou combed his own hair with his fingers.

“Honestly? You look awful. Better than when they brought you in, though.”

Ryou gave a soft laugh. He gave up trying to comb through the tangles and settled for taking a sip of water from the glass beside him. Seconds later, Malik burst into the room. In his arms, he held a bouquet of flowers and a stuffed bear. Ryou blushed when he saw the gifts, and he could hear the heart monitor beside him beeping a little faster.

“Ryou!” Malik dropped his presents, raced to the bed, and flung his arms around Ryou.

“Malik.” Ryou gasped, crushed in Malik’s arms but too happy to ask Malik to relax.

“I missed you.” Malik held Ryou’s face and kissed him. “I missed you.” He kissed him again. “Gods I missed you.” He kissed him a third time before pulling back and touching the crown of the figurine head. “You too, asshole.”

Atem laughed, but Ryou didn’t think Malik even noticed Atem sitting in the chair. Instead of acknowledging Yugi, Malik spun and retrieved the bear and flowers, shoving them iton Ryou’s arms.

“Here.”

“Thank you.” Ryou brushed his cheek against the bear’s soft fur and sniffed the light fragrance of the flowers.

“I looked on the internet, and this is what they suggested. And balloons? But that seemed odd. I thought balloons were for celebrations?”

“Some say ‘Get Well’ on them,” Atem said.

“Pharaoh?” Malik’s cheeks brightened when he finally realized he wasn’t alone in the room with Ryou.

“Atem.”

“Right. Sorry, I didn’t see you there. How are you?”

“Malik, you don’t have to be nice for the sake of it.” Yugi appeared, standing beside Atem as a spirit.

“Okay.” Malik exhaled in relief. “But I do have a present for you, Yugi.” Malik handed a thin scroll to Atem since he was controlling the body. “It’s a copy, but it will work.”

“What is it?” Atem unrolled the scroll reading the ritual and blushing. “Uh, this requires—”

“An act of creation. Yes. You’ll need two living humans to cast it, and once you regain a mortal body you have to help them close the ritual.”

“Um, maybe we’ll stay as we are.” Yugi chuckled, visibly nervous.

“You can’t.” Ryou shook his head.

“Sure we can.” Yugi shrugged.

“No,” Malik insisted. “That’s why it was so important I speak with you before Isis. Now that Zorc’s gone, you two are supposed to complete a Ceremonial Duel. The duel is a ritual meant to bring the Pharaoh’s soul to rest after the evil was defeated.”

“Rest...you mean my soul has to pass on?”

“Yes.” Malik nodded, his expression grave.

“You mean he’ll die?” Yugi’s eyes widened.

“He’s already dead.” Malik shook his head. “So’s Bakura, which is why I spent months digging through those horrible tomb chambers with the pretense of doing inventory and searching for a spell to bring them back.”

“You helped us reserve a fragment of Bakura’s soul during the game. It’s only because we have his ba that we can perform the ritual ourselves and return him to life.” Ryou held Bakura’s figurine in his hand.

“And we wanted to give you the same chance.” Malik gestured to the scroll. “You don’t have to use the spell. Any day now Isis will realize I tricked her when I told her I was visiting you in Domino. Once she figures out I’m not bringing you to Luxor, she’ll try to convince you to fly and meet her. You can go, but if you go to the sacred place—you’ll be forced to duel and Atem will go to Aaru to rule with the other Pharaohs.”

“But it’s not right.” Ryou frowned. “Zorc manipulated everyone. Because of him, Atem and Bakura both died and spent 3,000 years suffering in Items corrupted by Zorc’s influence. After everything you both did to help destroy Zorc, why shouldn’t you get to live your full lives? Surely the gods can wait a mere 80 more years before they weigh Atem’s and Bakura’s hearts.”

“So the choice is yours, but we wanted you to have to _have_ a choice.” Malik clenched his hands into fists. “I’m sick of destiny bottlenecking our decisions and herding us like sheep. Aren’t you?”

Yugi and Atem exchanged a glance. Even in spirit form, Ryou noticed how brightly Yugi was blushing, and he thought it was adorable.

“You know,” Ryou said, guessing what had Yugi flustered and trying to help with a suggestion. “I’m confident Anzu would co-cast the spell with you if you’re not sure who your second person could be.”

“I couldn’t ask her to do that.” Yugi shook his head.

“Then don’t.” Malik smirked. “Simply explain the situation and let her volunteer.

“We don’t manipulate our friends like that,” Atem snapped.

“Oh please.” Malik rolled his eyes. “I’ve been in her mind. Trust me. She’d be an eager and willing participant.”

“I haven’t seen her thoughts, but it’s pretty obvious, Yugi.” Ryou chuckled. “You should have seen the way she looked at you during your duel against Zorc, and it’s no secret how she feels about Atem. You guys will be okay.”

Now Atem was blushing as well as Yugi. Ryou wanted to laugh at how naive they were, but realized they didn’t have the same mental link with Anzu that Ryou and Bakura had with Malik.

“We’re going to have to think about...what to do,” Yugi said. “But thank you guys for giving us a choice.”

“It’s not out of kindness that I’m sharing the scroll.” Malik shook his head. “Had Bakura died, I would have made damn sure you went to Luxor and fought in the Ceremonial Duel. You earned your choice.”

“We’re grateful regardless.” Yugi bowed his head. “Ryou? Would you mind if I—”

“Go for a walk, Yugi. I’m in a hospital; if I need anything I can call a nurse. Besides, I’d like a moment alone with Malik before the others return. We can all do with some privacy, yes?”

Yugi nodded. Atem waved and they disappeared from the room. Malik crawled in bed. He was careful of any wires or tubes connected to Ryou as he spooned against Ryou’s side. Their hands clasped together around Bakura’s figurine.

“I’d ask how you feel, but I know you’re fatigued and impatient to get out of here so we can perform our own ritual.”

“You’re correct on all accounts.” Ryou kissed their joined hands.

“When are they releasing you?”

“I’m not sure. They’ve had me doped up on painkillers, but I imagine another day or two.”

“I’ve missed you both so much. I can’t sleep because I keep thinking about you.”

“We’re here, Malik. Rest.” Ryou kissed their combined hands once more.

“The nurses better not interrupt us.” Malik kissed Ryou’s shoulder.

“You should have brought Rishid. With him guarding the door, no one would dare interfere with our nap.” Ryou giggled.

“Damn, you’re right. I didn’t plan far enough ahead.” Malik sighed. “When Atem called, telling me you were alive but needed an ambulance, I felt like I was having a heart attack. I was relieved, and overwhelmed, and terrified you’d die before you reached the hospital.”

“I knew it was a risk, but saving Bakura wasn’t good enough. I had to save everyone from Kul elna, and I had to protect whoever found the Items 3,000 years from now when Zorc would try to revive again. Getting rid of him for good was the only way to accomplish all my goals”

“I know.” Malik sucked in a deep breath. “I wished I could have been a bigger help.”

“You showed me the banishment seal I used to destroy Zorc and you’ve brought the spell to help me bring back Bakura, don’t undervalue your contributions, Malik.” Ryou nudged against his bear again. The flowers sat on the tray beside his bed “Besides, now I’m going to have cool matching scars on each hand.”

“You’re crazy.” Malik laughed, pressing closer and closing his eyes.

“Um, bad segway, but how are you doing?” Ryou asked.

“Physical and mental therapy are both going well. And things are getting... _less_ awkward with my siblings. In time, I think we'll be okay.”

“Good, I’m glad you’re finding peace with yourself.”

“How about you? Is it hard to be by yourself after having the Ring for most of your life?”

“Yes, but it helps that I feel your presence, and when Bakura’s back, I’ll sense him too, so I’ll be all right.” Ryou yawned.

With Malik beside him and Bakura locked in their grasp, it was possible for Ryou to finally relax, falling asleep without the help of pills.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're done. Thanks in advance for any comments. Next week and a half will be a tendershipping blitz before I take a posting break to get some writing done. Enjoy~

“And if you need anything, don’t hesitate to call,” Anzu insisted as they all walked into Ryou’s living room.

“I promise I’m fine,” Ryou said.

“And I’m here to take care of him.” Malik wrapped his arm around Ryou’s waist.

“You better.” Jounouchi shot a stern look Malik’s way.

Malik raised an eyebrow, daring Jounouchi to elaborate. Before anything could escalate, Yugi threw his arms around Malik and then Ryou.

“Well, I'm sure Ryou wants to settle in after being in the hospital for a week. How about the rest of us go to Burger World?”

“Do you guys want to go with us?” Honda asked.

“Mmmm, ground cow corpse. Yummy.” Malik pivoted and headed into the kitchen to ignore the others and their conversation.

“Thanks, but I really just want a hot bath and my own bed, you know?” Ryou diffused the situation with a bright smile.

“Are you sure?” Anzu asked.

“Yes, thank you for trying to include me. Maybe next weekend?”

“All right. We’ll see you later!” Yugi rushed everyone out of the apartment, physically pushing Jonouchi through the doorway as he walked.

Ryou was grateful for Yugi’s intervention. He and Malik were both anxious to perform the ritual and return Bakura to their arms, so he didn’t have the energy for polite society. Ryou snuck into the kitchen and smiled at Malik.

“Coast is clear.”

“Thanks.” Malik sighed. “Maybe one day they won’t irritate me, but it hasn’t been long enough since Battle City...y’know?”

“It’s fine. We have more important things on the agenda tonight.” Ryou grinned.

“I’m excited to see him again as well. I’ll make the tea we need” Malik pressed a kiss onto Ryou’s lips.

“I’ll take the first bath, then.” Ryou went to the bathroom and drew a hot bath.

He infused the water with myrrh, coriander oil, and dried lotus powder. The cleansing was part of the spell. Ryou sighed as he sank into the bath’s heat and soaked until the fragrance absorbed into his skin. When he finished, he ran a second bath for Malik.

Ryou found Malik in the bedroom, also naked. A tea cozy full of coriander milk-tea sat on a cast iron pedestal heated with a tea candle on Ryou’s dresser. Incense smoke hovered in the room and three flax lamps—two lit and one yet to be lit—surrounded the bed. Malik brought a jar of crushed malachite to Ryou. He painted a seal over Ryou’s heart. Unlike the first seal, this one was beautiful with celery flowers, coriander blossoms, and vines curling over Ryou’s body to each of his scars on his chest, covering each scar with a green lotus.

“It’s beautiful. The bright green color.” Ryou admired Malik’s work popping out against the pale white of Ryou’s chest. “Your bath is ready.”

“Thanks.” Malik drew close, kissing Ryou’s mouth but careful not to smudge the symbol on Ryou’s chest.

As Malik prepared for the ritual, Ryou sprinkled lotus petals on the bed. This, too, was needed for the magic to work—a spell component first, but a nice romantic touch as a bonus. Fifteen minutes later, Malik returned. Ryou removed the coriander tea from the candle warmer and poured three cups. Malik muttered an incantation, speaking in a heavily accented dialect Ryou couldn’t quite catch but knew to drink when Malik brought his cup to his own lips.

They drank in silence, anxiety playing in their gazes. Ryou set his cup aside and painted the same seal on Malik’s chest with the rest of the crushed malachite. The last thing they did was place the thief figurine on one of Ryou’s pillows.

“Ready?” Malik asked, kneeling on Ryou’s bed.

Ryou nodded, crawled to Malik, and breathed in the scent of the bathing oils lingering on Malik’s skin. Malik’s hands trembled as Ryou threaded their fingers together.

“You okay?” Ryou whispered.

“What if it doesn’t wor—”

Ryou silenced Malik by slipping his tongue into Malik’s mouth. It would work. If it didn’t, they’d find another spell, but it would work. _Heka_ charged the air. The crinkling energy licked at the nape of Ryou’s neck and swirled around them with the incense smoke. Malik sucked in a breath through his nose as their kiss continued. Ryou didn’t stop until they both gasped for air. Malik seized the opportunity to suck at Ryou’s neck. The malachite seals adorning their chests glowed with pale green light, locking the magic in place. They pressed their chests together without worrying about smudging the seals.

“Oh.” Ryou gasped and the current flowing between him and Malik.

Ryou’s eyes closed as their mind link expanded. The sensation reminded him of when they were in his soul room, only now there was no dark cloak hiding Malik’s feelings, and Ryou could savor everything inside Malik: his love for Ryou and Bakura, his worry of the spelling not working, his hope that it would. Ryou pulled Malik on top of him and wrapped his right leg around Malik’s waste as their lips kneaded together.

“Ryou,” Malik moaned Ryou’s name with longing. “I’m never leaving you again. Either of you.”

“Good.” Ryou frotted with deliberate hitches to help their cocks grow hard. His fingers dug into Malik’s shoulders.

Malik leaned closer, whispering another incantation into Ryou’s ear. The thief figure bobbed on the pillow as their bodies rocked. As Malik chanted, _heka_ infused their bodies, burning Ryou’s skin until he called out in the mix of pleasure and pain.

“It burns.”

“Life hurts.” Malik eased the heat with another gentle kiss as he reached beneath the other pillow and pulled out a bottle of lube.

Malik’s chanting didn’t cease as he slid one, two, and eventually three fingers into Ryou’s ass. At each stage, Malik took his time, ensuring Ryou’s was fully relaxed and stretched before he anointed his cock and eased as deep as possible into Ryou’s body.

“Yes. Yes. Yes.” Ryou reached out, clutching the Bakura figure in his hand. He brought it to his chest, pressing it into the green glow and the magical heat.

Malik circled his hips. The bed creaked as their bodies slammed together over and over. The heat felt part of the act now, and Ryou was too lost in how good Malik felt inside him to focus on the green fire searing his skin. The doll in Ryou’s hands warmed as well. First it was a gentle warmth—sunlight striking Ryou’s skin. As they continued to make love, the heat intensified until it was a hot brand burning Ryou’s scarred hands and chest. Ryou refused to let go. He cried out at the thrill of Malik’s thrusts and endured the fire, almost craving it as Malik struck Ryou’s prostate.

There was no transition. They were two—then three. Bakura appeared between them, cock buried in Ryou’s body even as Malik’s was thrusting into his. Ryou and Malik both circled their arms around him, embracing him and welcoming him with brushes of their lips.

“ _Oh fuck!_ ” Bakura sang as his new existence began while twisted in the hold of his lovers.

Bakura’s body still burned with magic. The scent of sand and sweat clung to him the same as it had when he lived. Ryou indulged in the scent, fisting Bakura’s hair and tugged hard. He wanted Bakura to _feel it_.

“Gods!” Bakura screamed again.

“Welcome—back— _hayati_.” Malik huffed, thrusting hard as he clung to Bakura around the ribs.

“How do you feel?” Ryou managed to ask, drowning in the bliss of the moment.

“Amazing!” Bakura called out. “Oh gods...oh gods…”

“Yes—we—are—” Malik chuckled between pants.

He nipped at Bakura’s neck and shoulders while Ryou kissed his mouth. Their sweat soaked through the bedsheets and their hair clung to their foreheads in a mess of wet strands, but they kept moving, unable to get enough of each other. Ryou waited until his cock couldn’t take it anymore and he was desperate to come.

“My sweet, troublesome thief,” Ryou sucked Bakura’s chest until red-violet poppies bloomed across his skin then commanded, “Touch me.”

Bakura grunted, dazed as he bobbed between Malik and Ryou. He fumbled for Ryou’s erect cock. With a firm grip, he slid his clenched fist up and down. All three of their moans grew frantic. The magical light intensified and their cries echoed in the room as their orgasms consumed them. The second them all dropped against the mattress, the green light extinguished, and Bakura belonged to them for eternity. Ryou lay on his back, struggling to breathe as he waited for his heart rate to settle. His fingers combed Bakura’s hair while his other hand rubbed Malik’s forearm.

Bakura hovered above Ryou, grinning. Ryou returned the smile. Their laughter echoed in the room. Ryou grabbed Bakura, kissing him several times before Malik grabbed Bakura’s hair and pulled him in for more kissing. Limbs in a tangle, they took turns kissing until they were out of breath.

“The tea.” Malik’s chest rose and fell as he huffed for breath.

“Here.”

They helped Bakura stand and led him to the tea pot, pouring him a cup of lukewarm tea.

“Drink this,” Malik instructed. “It will close the ritual.”

Bakura downed the tea in a single gulp. He smacked his lips and lay the cup next to the others. Ryou stared at the oil lamps, sighing in relief when he noticed all three were lit.

“See Malik? It worked.”

“Yeah. It did.” Malik swiped a wet lock of hair away from Bakura’s forehead.

“I’m burning.” Bakura fanned his face. His skin glowed with a rosey flush.

“Your temperature will lower after the magic settles,” Malik said.

“Are you hungry?” Ryou asked.

“Fuck yes I’m hungry. I haven’t eaten in 3,000 years.” Bakura patted his belly.

“I’ll see what I can toss together from pantry staples.” Ryou slipped into a robe.

“And after a quick nap, we need to wash up again and get ready to go shopping.” Malik followed Ryou into the kitchen with Bakura behind them.

“Shopping? What for?” Bakura snorted.

“Clothes. You came into this world naked, after all.”

“That’s the standard way.” Bakura climbed onto the counter to raid Ryou’s cupboards.

Malik opened the fridge, wrinkled his face, and closed the door again.

“Also groceries. Didn’t Zorc feed you?”

“No,” Ryou grumbled as he pulled packs of dried ramen. “And I’ve been in the hospital for a week, so instant noodles it is.”

“Do I really _need_ clothes?” Bakura flexed his bicep. He ate nori sheets directly from the package as the water boiled for the noodles.

“Yes. How else are you going to take me out on a date?” Malik grinned.

Malik sat with his legs crossed. Naked in a kitchen chair, Malik was more than a king in a throne swaddled in fine silks—he was a god. Ryou and Bakura both blushed as they stared at him. It wasn’t until the water boiled and splashed from Ryou’s pot, hissing as it landed on the red-hot burner, that Ryou remembered their soup.

***

Bakura popped the collar of his red shirt. He left it unbuttoned, a simple tank underneath. He scrunched his fingers through his hair, making sure it was good and messy, and checked out his ass in the mirror before turning to Ryou and cringing.

“What the fuck are you wearing?”

“Clothes?” Ryou tilted his head.

More specifically, Ryou wore purple corduroy pants and a blue and yellow checkered shirt, and Bakura felt his soul separating from his body to flee from Ryou’s fashion sense. He smacked his face with the palm of his hand.

“What’s wrong?” Ryou asked.

“Nothing. I already know what your wardrobe looks like. At least I’ll never have to see that hideous sweater again—”

“What did you do to my sweater?” Ryou narrowed his gaze at Bakura. “I’ve been looking for it since we left Pegasus’ Island, but I could never find it.”

“Who knows?” Bakura grinned, peeking up from his splayed fingers.

“Bakura—” Ryou stomped his foot. “Give it back.”

“Can’t. Shadow Realm.”

“You sent my sweater to the Shadow Realm!”

“It had it coming! That thing was an atrocity to the gods!”

“I can’t believe you!” Ryou tossed his arms into the air.

The doorbell interrupted their argument. Bakura and Ryou raced to answer, shoving each other aside to try and be the first person to turn the knob. Smashed together, they both flung the door wide at the same time. Their mouths dropped and their arms fell slack at their sides when they saw Malik. He looked gorgeous and wore a shirt that showed off even more of his flat stomach than usual.

“Ready for our date?” Malik grinned as he held out both of his hands.

“You’re spoiling me with all these presents.” Ryou blushed. He opened the box, revealing chocolate truffles. Ryou smiled. “These look delicious! I’ll save them for after. Thank you.” He kissed Malik’s cheek, running to store the chocolates somewhere Bakura wouldn’t be able to find.

“Feel free to spoil me all you want.” Bakura winked. Opening at his box, Bakura grinned at the knife.

“Since you had to throw your other one in the ocean,” Malik said.

Bakura shot his finger at Malik and slipped the knife into his pocket. Ryou returned and grabbed Bakura’s hand with his left and Malik’s with his right.

“I’m ready. Let’s go.” Ryou kissed them both on the cheek.

They walked two blocks to a local coffee shop. Malik ordered for all of them, but Ryou stuck a wad of money at the cashier before Malik could also pay. With their drinks in their hands, they strolled to the closest park, walking along the perimeter as they sipped from their cups and talked.

“So…” Bakura focused on his espresso. “Heard Yugi brought back Atem as well.”

“Does it upset you?” Malik asked.

“Not as much as it should.” Bakura sighed. “I wouldn’t say we exactly worked everything out during the RPG, but…maybe we’re going in that direction.”

“It’s okay.” Ryou squeezed his shoulder. “You don’t have to feel any one way about it. It’s complicated.”

“You can say that again.” Bakura snorted. “I’m going to have to think about some things now Zorc doesn’t have his claws in my mind anymore.”

“If you need to talk out loud, we’re here.” Malik slipped an arm around Bakura’s waist and pressed a reassuring kiss to Bakura’s neck.

“Heh,” Bakura’s face brightened at Ryou’s and Malik’s little touches.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, tossing their cups in the trash once they finished their drinks. After another lap around the park, Malik closed his eyes, sighing. “The city itself is dull, but the parks are beautiful. There isn’t anything like this where I lived in Luxor.”

“Lived?” Bakura asked.

“What? Did you think I was going to bring you back to life and then rush to the desert without you? No way. I’m staying in Domino.” Malik smiled. A breeze kissed their arms and a few gold strands of hair fell into Malik’s eyes.

Bakura swept the hair behind Malik’s ear. Ryou coiled his arms around Malik’s bare midriff and pressed his forehead against Malik’s shoulder.

“So, I’m in a hotel at the moment, but if you both didn’t mind me crashing at your place…”

“Damn Malik, we haven't even finished the first date and you’re already trying to move in?” Bakura chuckled.

“I’m decisive and efficient,” Malik replied.

“Don’t listen to him.” Ryou kissed Malik’s shoulder before pulling away. “We’re thrilled to share an apartment with you for as long as you’d like.”

“We’re especially thrilled to share a bed.” Bakura shot Malik with his finger.

“I don’t know…” Malik sang with a teasing voice. “We’ll have to see how this first date goes before you invite me up for coffee.”

“We already drank the coffee. I’m inviting you to shove me onto the bed and make me beg for more.”

Malik smirked, raising an eyebrow.

“Hmm… Malik has a point, though. Since this is our first date, we should make it memorable and do something a little more fun than walk in circles.” Ryou’s sweet smile betrayed the fact that he already had something in mind.

“Any suggestions?” Malik asked, clearly suspicious.

“Let’s see… what could we do to make this date more exciting?” Ryou crossed an arm over his chest and tapped his finger to his lips as he pretended to investigate the park.

While Ryou played dumb, Bakura snuck away and climbed into a tree where a net of water balloons hung from one of the branches. They’d schemed the surprise water balloon fight the night before and woke up at a disgusting hour before sunrise in order to set up their plan. Bakura tossed a warning balloon near Malik’s feet. Malik jumped back, avoiding the splash when the orange balloon burst beside him.

“What the hell, Bakura?” Malik stared at the wet sidewalk in front of him.

Bakura answered by tossing a balloon at Ryou. Ryou jumped out of the way and grabbed Malik’s hand.

“Come on. We can take cover behind this other tree.”

Bakura cut the net loose. He slung it over his shoulder and jumped down from the tree. A bright blue balloon flew through the air and smacked the side of his head.

“Dammit! Give me a chance to get ready!” Bakura shouted.

Another balloon splashed over his chest. Bakura dragged his arsenal behind the tree, and waited until he saw Ryou before tossing a green balloon. Malik raced toward him, a balloon in each hand. Bakura threw another balloon at Malik before Malik smashed his two on top of Bakura’s head. Water rained over him, soaking his hair. In a fit of laughter, Malik and Bakura wrestled, both trying to reach a balloon from Bakura’s stash. Distracted with each other, neither noticed Ryou until he was over them and bombarding them with a rainbow of water balloons.

Malik and Bakura formed a silent truce, stopping their wrestling match in order to retaliate and ensure Ryou was as wet as they were. After they used all of their ammo, the three of them dropped spread-eagle on the grass, catching their breath and staring at the sky above.

“Thank you.” Malik grinned and combed his wet bangs out of his face.

“For getting you good and wet before we take you home and have our way with you?” Bakura asked.

“I’ve been out of the tombs for over seven years now, but this is the first time I’ve truly enjoyed myself outdoors,” Malik said. “My father stole my childhood from me, but my own anger and vengeance stole the rest of that time. Thank you for giving me some of that lost life back.” Malik sat up, his face soft with affection. “I love you both so much.”

 _I love you too_ Ryou mouthed, gazing up at Malik. Bakura sat, lost in thought.

“You’re right,” he murmured. “So many years of existing...but I haven’t had this much fun since I was small.”

Bakura swiped a tear out of the corner of his eye, pretending he was wiping away a few last drops of water from their battle. Malik threw his arms around Bakura, and Bakura sank into Malik's embrace—no longer concerned if the act made him seem foolish or weak.

“Come on.” Ryou joined in their hug. “Let’s walk back to the apartment. We should be dry by then and once we get home I’ll bake cookies and we can teach Malik how to play Monster World.”

“Sounds perfect.” Malik grinned.

Ryou jumped to his feet, helping Malik stand next. Both of them reached a hand toward Bakura. He paused, staring at them as they stood in the sunlight. Their hair was kinky from air drying and their clothes were wrinkled, but they were gorgeous like that—all play-tousled and grass-speckled and grinning from ear to ear. Bakura reached for their hands, clasping their warm, strong grips, and allowed them to lift him up.


End file.
